A Different Kind of Color
by Someryn
Summary: Clary Fray is a terminally shy art prodigy who struggles to speak to anyone except her best friend Simon. Then she stumbles onto three teenagers fighting a horde of the scariest looking things she's ever seen and shocks everyone by killing the demons first. Slowly she begins to realize there might be more to life than living inside her own head. Clace (plus Sizzy and Malec).
1. Chapter 1

**SUMMARY** : Clary Fray is a terminally shy art prodigy who struggles to relate to anyone except her best friend Simon and her manga collection. Then she stumbles onto three teenagers fighting the scariest looking things she's ever seen in her life and manages to kill them first. Slowly she begins to realize there might be more to life than living inside her own head. Clary/Jace (plus Sizzy and Malec).

This is not a pure, time-matched version of canon, more like a retelling of the story.

Rated somewhere between T and M, with more bad language and sexuality than in the books.

* * *

 **Note** : I am still working on completing this fic. I'm estimating I'm about 60-70% done. It will probably be about 60k words when complete. I wanted to finish it entirely before posting it, but I decided to start posting the first five chapters or so to see if anything in the reviews made me reconsider any plot points or details in the story.

I make continual edits to the chapters in my own file in Scrivener, so this version of the chapters on should be considered a work in progress and subject to (hopefully minor) changes. If I make any major changes to previously posted chapters I will make a note in the subsequent chapter if you want to go back and read the new version. When the entire fic is complete and I am satisfied with it, I will make sure it entirely matches my final version and post a note in the first chapter that it is completely finished and finalized.

Finally, my experience with being an artist and art prodigies in general is drawn almost entirely from my own research. If anyone with experience has corrections to offer, I'd be happy to hear them. I am more familiar with social anxiety due to having several acquaintances with varying degrees of it, but if you struggle with a severe form of it and think I am mischaracterizing some aspect of it, please feel free to let me know as well.

Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you thought!

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**

Pandemonium was burning, seething with an energy I could almost see. I wouldn't be able to capture the energy with my pencils; this would need to be painted. I noted the fading neon sign, the black-clothed bouncer standing at the entrance, the people in line in glitter and body paint and tight dresses and black eyeliner, sometimes on the boys as well as the girls.

The light from the sign, the flashing strobe lights shining through the door, a couple of street lights overhead, the perpetual glow the night sky had from living in New York City made an overwhelming mix of light and shadows that evolved and shifted almost faster than I could register them.

This would be a challenge. I might do this one in oil. It would need layers and texture to best grasp the complexity of this roiling mass of humanity.

I focused on the most interesting people in line, a girl in a red, glittery dress with dark snakeskin boots, a boy with violet contacts wearing a shirt so tight it looked painful, a couple in their twenties who kept groping each other when they thought no one was paying attention. I memorized their faces, their gestures, their movements to capture on canvas when I returned home.

I scanned the crowd again, seeking more interesting faces, and frowned when I saw a group of three teenagers, all in black, moving perpendicular to the crowd. They walked straight through the line, and no one complained about them cutting it. In fact, no one seemed to be paying them any attention at all.

When they came into a clearer area on the other side of the long line, they spread out and looked around as if they were following someone. They were two guys, one with dark hair and the other with golden blond, and a girl with hair as dark as the boy's. The dark-haired boy also held a bow in his hand, and the blond boy held a shining sword.

I blinked, glanced around, and looked again. They were moving away from me, but I could still see them. I wasn't imagining them. Not knowing why I was doing it, I rose off of the bench I'd been sitting on and followed them.

They were heading toward the back alley behind the club. Almost all the light from the club and the main street was swallowed by darkness by the time they'd moved this far down the alley.

Then I saw what I assumed they'd been looking for. Six... shapes, turning and advancing back toward the three. I watched in shock as they flickered between looking like hard-faced men who could have been bouncers to roiling masses of red and black that looked vaguely like how I'd imagined a wingless dragon might look.

The first shape advanced, shifting from a tall, brown-haired man with deadly eyes, back to the dragon, and then back again. The blond boy had rushed forward and was on it at once, whirling about almost faster than I could see with his strange sword. The brunet boy immediately widened his stance and held up his bow, firing with precision at the remaining five... things. His first shot hit right in the center of the man/beast, and it flared up in smoke before disappearing. But another of the beasts was on the blond boy now, and a third began running toward the brown-haired boy.

The girl was suddenly in the fray, cracking something that I belatedly recognized was a whip, and one of the remaining things was dragged toward her. Moving with that same unbelievable speed as the two boys, she stabbed the creature's chest with another of those shining blades.

Now there were three of the remaining things, and they had all reached the same part of the alley now. The three humans worked as a team, but I wasn't sure they could handle all three at once. The blond boy kicked one of the things from behind, and something went skittering out of its claw/hand and across the ground, skidding to a stop not far from me.

None of them turned to look at it. As far as I could tell, no one in the alley had noticed me. I glanced down to see what had been tossed toward me. A gun.

The girl shouted as one of the things tried to grab her from behind. She slipped out of its grasp, but not before it had raked her across the collarbone.

The dark-haired boy cursed and ran toward her, leaving the beast he'd been grappling with behind. Not sure why I was doing it, I knelt and picked up the gun. It was cold and smooth and heavy in my palm.

I turned back to the fight, watching dumbly. The things still flickered occasionally back to a humanoid form, and I knew without a doubt that they were evil. I didn't know how I knew. I didn't even know what they were. But somehow, instinctively, I knew they needed to die.

The blond boy seemed to be the best fighter, and two of the monsters peeled off him to run the other two teenagers. That created an opening, a small gap in the alley where the creatures were running free, not touching any of the humans.

Barely feeling like myself, I raised the gun and fired twice.

The two creatures exploded into red flames and disappeared.

I stared at the spot where they had just been, breathing heavily as if I'd been running around. I couldn't look away. My ears rang from the shots.

I barely registered the three humans dispatching the remaining monster with ease now that they only had one to focus on.

Then all three of them turned to look at me. I could see disbelief in their eyes when let my eyes flicker across their faces. I tried to catch my breath, and I wanted to let go of the gun, but my fingers were still clenched tight around it.

The blond boy was first to approach me, walking around me and to my side. After glancing down to see my finger wasn't on the trigger anymore, he gently pushed the gun down and clicked the safety.

"How often have you shot a gun?"

I looked down at my hands, carefully disentangling them until I just held the gun by its handle. They were shaking. "Once, now."

"You're joking."

I backed away from him, holding the gun out gingerly. "I'm not."

The girl had come up to stand next to him. "Jace is right. You got both of them in the exact center of their heads, like a sniper. You don't have to do that, by the way," she added. "They're not human. You may as well aim for their center of mass."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing hysterically. "Good to know."

The second boy, the one with dark hair, joined us, his expression displeased. "What do we do with her?" he asked, as if I wasn't there.

I didn't like the sneer he turned on me, but I didn't know what to say. My shock was fading, to be replaced with fear. I always froze up when I got emotional. Not enough practice at talking to people besides Simon and my mom, probably.

I was such a freak.

I backed away from him, from all of them instinctively, hoping I could disappear back out of the alley before they started yelling at me. I wanted to go home and curl up on my bed and pretend this had never happened.

The blond wrapped his hand around my arm, pulling me back toward the three of them. I flinched at the contact, and his grip loosened, but he didn't let go until I standing with them again.

"Are you Nephilim?" he demanded, and the other two watched me as well.

I could feel my face heat up. Three people looking at me at once was enough to make me want to die on the spot.

I did what my mom had always told me to do if I ever had to speak in a situation like this, and squeezed my eyes shut. That forced me to focus on the words instead of my fear.

"I don't know what that is."

Still with my eyes shut, I could hear the girl next to me shifting. "She has to be, Jace. She saw the demons, she shot the demons without training, and she's clearly not a faerie, werewolf, or vampire."

"She could be a warlock," the other boy, the non-Jace boy grunted. I could still hear the dislike in his tone.

"We'd be able to tell if she were," Jace said.

"Maybe it's under her-"

"Okay," the girl said sharply. I could almost feel her eyes on me, and I trembled, waiting for what would come next. "We're going over here. You two, stay far away from us."

I felt her hand on my elbow, and then she was guiding me deeper into the alley, where those monstrous things - demons - had burst into flame and then vanished. They had left no trace behind. I would have thought I was crazy if these people hadn't acted like it had happened as well.

"Okay, they can't hear us," the girl said. "Can you open your eyes now?"

Slowly, I complied. Up close I saw that she was pretty, with long, dark hair and eyes and pale skin. She was at least half a foot taller than me, but she didn't seem to loom. Her voice had sounded somewhere between aloof and annoyed before, but now her expression was gentle.

"I'm Isabelle," she said. "Izzy. What's your name?"

I dropped eye contact. All my life it had been almost impossible for me to meet people's eyes. "Clarissa. But I go by Clary."

"Clary, were you telling the truth when you said you'd never held a gun before?"

I nodded at the ground. "Yes."

"Have you ever seen a demon before?"

"No."

She reached into her pocket for something and held it out to me. It was a round rock. She was wearing fingerless gloves, and I noticed she was careful to hold it in the palm of her hands, where it couldn't touch her skin. As she dropped it into my hands, it immediately began to emit a bright glow, startling me so much that I almost dropped it.

Isabelle looked satisfied, glancing over where I knew the two boys were still standing. "See?" she called to them.

They didn't say anything, and I couldn't bring myself to turn to look at them, so I didn't know how they reacted.

Isabelle took the stone back from me, not bothering to avoid her fingertips this time, and the stone stayed lit until she dropped it back into her pocket. "That's a witchlight," she said. "If it works for you, it means you're Nephilim. A Shadowhunter. Even if I don't understand how you couldn't know that. How we couldn't know who you are."

The dark-haired boy called to us, and he sounded farther away than he had before. "I just saw an Eidolon head into the club. Your specialty, Isabelle."

She grinned. "Excellent." She began walking back to the boys, and I reluctantly trailed behind her. I hoped this was the end of this incomprehensible interrogation. I needed to paint, to drown my confusion and fear and nervousness into my canvases.

"We can't let this kind of demon just walk away, Clary," she said to me, as if she owed me an explanation for why she was leaving. "It could kill a dozen humans tonight if we don't stop it."

"We still need to figure out who she is," Jace said before I could try to come up with an answer. "It's dangerous for her to be walking around without runes." I couldn't bring myself to look up from the ground, but I could feel his eyes on me. "I'll take her home. You go, Iz. This one's not interested in guys."

I remembered how Jace had spoken to me a few minutes ago and tried to take a step toward Isabelle, who seemed to be the lesser of the two evils. She turned to Jace with a stern expression. "Take her, but don't stare at her, don't yell at her, and don't touch her unless you have to."

"But those are my three favorite things," he said dryly. Isabelle ignored him and was already turning to go into the club, the dark-haired boy pulling out his bow and following her.

Jace turned to me, and I glanced at him quickly without thinking about it, running my gaze over his face as quickly as I could without making eye contact.

He had the prettiest eyes I had ever seen, and just like that I was imagining sitting in front of a canvas in my room, my paints spread before me. Diarylide yellow, yellow ochre, and cadmium orange to start, then I would need to bring in some burnt umber, then eventually raw umber to darken some of the yellows. My fingers twitched with the need to paint. I fought it down with effort and concentrated on naming the colors around me to distract myself.

"I'm going to have to break that no-touching rule already if you don't come with me," he said impatiently, and I realized he had taken a couple of steps and was waiting for me to follow.

I nodded and followed, staring at the ground in front of me. I didn't want to get distracted by his eyes again.

I told him the intersection of my house, and he seemed to know it, and we left the dark alley behind. "So what were you doing out here?" he asked, nodding to the entrance to the club as we passed it. "You don't seem like the clubbing type."

I wondered what type I seemed like to him. The terminally shy, scared type, I guessed. He'd already seen enough of me to draw some painfully accurate conclusions.

"Walking home," I said. I didn't want to bring up my weird artist's desire to try to capture the flare of energy that the clubgoers possessed.

"From high school?"

There went the chance that I could keep that part of myself hidden. "No, I go to Parsons."

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye to see his look of surprise. "But that's a college, isn't it? Or are you older than you look?"

"I'm sixteen," I said, knowing that sixteen was probably still older than I looked. I had stopped growing vertically two years ago, my body apparently deciding to top out at just under five-two, despite the fact that my mother was a few inches taller than that and she had told me my biological father was a tall man. At least I had some (modest) boobs and hips I hadn't had when I was fourteen.

"And yet you're in college." He was not going to let this go.

"I do art," I said vaguely, embarrassed, hoping he wouldn't pry. I hated the word "prodigy", especially when it applied to me. I just had a talent, that was all. A passion. Normal people had those.

"What kind of art?" he asked.

"Painting and drawing." Drawing was my greater skill, but painting was in my blood.

Apparently, it wasn't the only thing in my blood, I thought, as I remembered the effortless feeling of the gun in my hand, and then that rock - the witchlight - flaring up between my fingertips.

"You should draw me," he said, and I almost tripped on nothing. "Or paint me," he said thoughtfully, as if he hadn't noticed my reaction. "Nude, of course. I'm sure I would look especially radiant with the morning light streaming in behind me."

He absolutely would. Just the thought of that made my cheeks flare up. I stared at the ground, hoping he wouldn't notice in the dark.

No such luck. "I was teasing, Red," he said with a soft laugh. It didn't sound mean, though. I was very familiar with what meanness directed at me sounded like.

"I know," I said, and I almost was able to bring myself to look at him, but I couldn't quite manage it. "And Clary. I'm Clary."

"Good to know, Red," he said, and he chuckled when I shook my head in exasperation.

When we reached my front door, he let me go first so that I could fumble for my house key. But when I pushed it into the lock, I realized there was no need. The door was unlocked.

That shouldn't ever happen. My mom got the locks on our doors changed once a year. She took safety very seriously and would never leave the front door unlocked.

I left the keys in the front door and ran into the living room. "Mom?" My voice cracked. I had the feeling that something was terribly, awfully wrong, though I couldn't see anything amiss. Until I turned on the light and screamed.

There was blood on the walls. Jace was behind me in an instant, his shining sword out. I wished he still had the gun so I could take it, but I was pretty sure his other friend had taken it with him.

I frantically scanned the room for what I dreaded to see most: a lifeless, crumpled form. But the room was empty.

I turned and sprinted up the stairs, Jace shouting something behind me that I couldn't focus on through my haze of panic. I had the half-hysterical urge to tell him that he was breaking one of Isabelle's rules.

Ignoring his shouts, I frantically pushed open the door to my mom's room. Everything looked as usual in here. Her room was as I had last seen it, with its chic messiness, paints and half-finished canvases littering her dresser and nightstand from when she didn't feel like going all the way to the studio one room away to paint. There was no blood in here, no sign of a struggle.

Whatever had happened to my mother, it had happened downstairs.

"I think she was taken, Clary," Jace said from behind me a minute later. "Kidnapped. I've checked all the other rooms. That's human blood on the wall, but not enough to be a serious injury. And there was clearly a struggle."

I could feel tears rising up in my eyes. My mom, hurt and maybe… I refused to think about it. "Why?" I said desperately. "She's just a normal person! We're just normal people." Except for the fact that you shot a demon today, a voice whispered in my head.

Jace hesitated. "I think she might be one of us, too. A Shadowhunter."

"She couldn't be," I said dully. It was easier to talk to Jace with something as awful as my mother's kidnapping distracting me. "She owns an art studio. We live in a shitty walk-up in Brooklyn. We couldn't be more normal."

"What's your last name?" he asked me out of nowhere.

I finally turned to face him, distantly feeling confused through my panic. "Fray. Why does that matter?"

"That's not a Shadowhunter name, but I still don't think this was a random kidnapping," he said slowly. "I think somebody wants her-"

An awful ripping noise suddenly rang through the air from downstairs, and I jumped.

"Demons," Jace said grimly. "Just proving my point. I bet they're here to clean up any evidence we might find. And anyone who happened to come back to this house."

He held up his shining sword again, his stance tense. Then, to my surprise, he pulled a long knife - a dagger, I thought - out of his belt and handed it to me. "Don't use this unless you have to," he said. "But I have a feeling you'll be better at it than you think you will."

Without giving me time to respond, he turned and jogged back down the stairs. I followed him, the dagger clutched tightly in my hand. Two demons were swarming into the middle of my living room, and a third was halfway through the room's broken window. They were monstrous, multiple red-limbed things almost as tall as the ceiling, with black fumes emanating from them.

Jace was whirling between them, and I took a moment to be awed at how fluidly he moved. Each of the demons was at least twice his size, and he moved fearlessly, effortlessly. After just a few seconds I could tell he had the skill to kill all of them, but all I could think about was finding my mom as soon as possible.

I held out the dagger in my hand, weighing it in my hand thoughtfully. It was worth a shot.

The third demon had just finished pushing its way through the window and was the farthest away from Jace. Letting out a slow breath, I threw back my hand and hurled the knife as hard as I could toward it. I remembered Isabelle's comment and aimed at the center of its mass this time.

The blade sank into the demon's back, and it made an awful groaning noise before it began to leak black ichor. I grimaced, revolted at the unnatural sight, and I was barely aware of Jace finishing off the other two. He stepped over the mass of black blood that was now seeping from all three demons and reached down to pull out the dagger.

"Impressive," he said, wiping it off on a clean spot on the carpet before handing it back to me. "That's not even a throwing knife."

I heard a tearing sound coming from the direction of the front door. Something was trying to rip the door off its hinges. "We have to leave," Jace said. "Now."

"Where should I go?" I asked helplessly. I didn't have anywhere to go except maybe to Luke's, but my mom had said while we were eating breakfast that morning that he'd left for the old farm house last night. And Simon was at the beach with his family until tomorrow.

"With me, of course," Jace said, sounding surprised. "To the Institute. We'll be able to help you find your mother, and there are dozens of guest rooms. You can stay as long as you need to."

"I-" I started uncertainly. Leaving with a stranger with magical powers to go to a magical place I wasn't sure actually existed sounded like it might be a really bad idea.

Then through the window I saw another oozing black demon, too large to make it through the window, throwing its weight against the front door. I decided sticking around to deal with that would be an even worse idea.

Jace grabbed my hand, and I was so distracted that I barely even registered the skin contact as he pulled me toward the back door. He stopped when he'd closed the door behind us and we stood in the tiny backyard of my house. "I need to Mark you," he said as he pulled out a long silver object.

"What's that?" I asked. Like the runes and the glowing blades, something about it looked vaguely familiar. It meant something to me.

"It's a stele. It's how we make runes. I need to put a lot on you, though. Front, back, or arms?"

"I... don't know," I stammered. I was still reeling, struggling to adjust to the fact that demons were in my living room and my mother had been kidnapped. "Wherever other people usually put them?"

I glanced up at him to see a quick flash of a grin. "Okay, but remember you're the one who said that."

Without warning, he pushed the hem of my loose t-shirt up to reveal my stomach. "Hey," I protested, but he was already pressing the stele to my skin, just above my hip. I hissed as he marked my skin with purposeful, burning strokes. Then his hand rose higher on my side and he made another one right along my ribcage. This one hurt more.

"Sorry," he murmured. He moved to my back and lifted my shirt enough almost as high as my bra strap. I closed my eyes in mortification. There was another burning sensation right in the middle of my back, along my spine. I exhaled slowly, trying to breathe through it. "Speed, strength, and stamina," he said, stepping back. "Oh, and let's both do a glamour."

He let my shirt fall and took my upper arm, drawing one more rune in quick, painful strokes. Then he pulled back and did the same on his own arm. "Okay," he said, putting the stele back in his pocket.

I could hear the front door cracking as it was finally forced open. An unearthly howl seemed to shake the very foundation of my house, and I jumped at the noise. "Now what?" I whispered, as if the demon wouldn't be able to find us if I was quiet.

Jace looked over at me, and I automatically dropped my gaze. "Now we run."

* * *

 _Thank you for reading! The next chapter should be up within a week or so. Let me know what you thought._


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I love hearing what you think of the story and its direction. To the guest who asked about Clary's thoughts about her shyness, this is definitely the trait about herself she most dislikes, so she is very hard on herself about it. However, she gains confidence over the course of the story. And for lazyfangirl, who asked about Sizzy, I'm assuming this means you want to see if it's happening? This is the type of feedback I love to hear, because I'd like to know how much Malec and Sizzy readers would like to see in this fic. Both pairings are definitely happening, which has been the plan from the beginning. Since this is ultimately Clary's story I'm not planning on including other POVs, but I am happy to make extra effort to ensure plenty of Sizzy and Malec happens on screen.

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO**

I was exhausted by the time we got to the mysterious Institute and climbed into the old-fashioned elevator, but I suspected that I wouldn't have been capable of doing it at all without my new runes. I'd never run so hard or for so far in my life.

"You holding up there, Red?" Jace asked once I'd regained my breath. I thought there might be genuine concern in his voice.

"Maybe. Barely," I said truthfully. "I just want my mom back." My voice almost broke, and I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. She wasn't dead. She _wasn't_.

"We'll get her back," he said, and the complete confidence in his voice was a comfort to me.

He led me into an enormous open room, up a grand staircase and down a hallway. At the end of the hallway, he held open a door for me, and I stepped inside cautiously. We were in a library, hardback books with heavy, ancient looking covers filling the vast room from floor to ceiling. Some of the books seemed to sing out to be touched, for someone to discover their secrets. I didn't know if that was my imagination or if there was really something otherworldly about them.

A man in his late forties or so sat at a desk in the room, and he looked up when Jace and I entered the room. "I presume this the new Shadowhunter Isabelle and Alec were talking about?" he asked, his eyes falling on me for a moment before I returned my gaze to the book shelves.

Jace nodded. "Hodge, this is Clary Fray. We found her, or rather, she found us. She doesn't know anything about our world." Hodge started to speak, but Jace kept going. "Her mother was just kidnapped. Her house is full of demons right now. Let's focus on that."

Hodge was looking at me with an odd expression that I just glimpsed from running my gaze back across his face without meeting his eyes. "Clary, could you tell me your mother's name?"

"Jocelyn," I said uncertainly, not understanding why this was the most important thing.

He froze. "Jocelyn Fairchild," he said. "You look so much like her."

I instinctively glanced at Jace for help, but he looked as confused as I was. "That name sounds familiar," he said slowly.

"It should," Hodge said in a strange tone of bitterness. "She was Valentine Morgenstern's wife. She helped found the Circle."

* * *

After a long, confusing, and unpleasant conversation with Hodge, it was agreed that he would help me find my mother, or rather, would direct us to the warlock who could. As soon as the heads of the institute, Robert and Maryse Lightwood, returned home. Which would be in a day or two.

It was past midnight when Jace led me back through the hallways and deposited me outside of Isabelle's bedroom door. He left me there before I could try to say thank you, or goodbye, or any other awkward words that would surely come out of my mouth.

I was so tired, so drained, and I wanted to curl up and never wake up. I wanted my mother. I was sure she could explain why she had helped this Valentine start a group that was now hated in the Shadowhunter world. I knew she could explain it in a way that would make me understand. Or maybe I just wanted to believe that.

Isabelle was still awake, and she answered my knock almost immediately, dressed in a silky, stomach-baring black top and tight black tights that seemed less than ideal in terms of sleeping comfort. She took one look at me and stepped aside.

For the first time, I realized how dirty and cold I was, in addition to being exhausted. "I'll get you some clean clothes," she said without preamble. She pointed me in the direction of a door in her room. "Take a shower. I'll leave some clothes for you right outside the door."

I was too tired to protest, so I just stumbled into her bathroom. "Okay. Thanks."

I turned on the water but stood there in front of the mirror until the glass fogged up too much to see, examining the new runes on my skin. The invisibility one had long faded, but I could still see it in the middle of my back in fine white strokes. A scar. I would have its imprint on my skin forever.

I shuddered. I wasn't sure how long forever would be. Maybe whoever had taken my mother wanted me, too. Maybe they would come for me tonight, or tomorrow. I wondered how well protected the Institute was.

To distract myself, I looked at the rune now drawn on my waist, just above my hipbone. It was fading but still visible. I remembered the distinct feel of Jace's fingers pressing there, holding me still with his other hand, and I felt myself blushing at the memory.

Shaking my head in disgust that I could think about something like that when my entire world had been turned upside and my mother was missing, I climbed into the shower and scrubbed myself clean until I was red and raw.

When I got out, I was so tired that I didn't even have the energy to protest the ridiculous clothes that Isabelle had laid out for me.

I crawled into bed in the room down the hallway that Isabelle had pointed me to, and I fell immediately, deeply, into sleep.

* * *

I woke up late the next morning, trying to figure out where I was until it all came crashing down on me. Demons, gunshot, Mom, Pandemonium, Shadowhunters, runes. Jace.

My head spinning, I instinctively did what I always did when too many thoughts were running through my head. I reached for my sketchbook on the bedside table. And of course, it wasn't there.

I could handle everything else up until now, and I could probably even survive without painting for a few days, but if I couldn't draw I would rather march back into my house and take my chances with the demons to get my pencils and charcoals back.

I got out of bed and scowled down at the black spandex shorts and gray tank top that Isabelle had left out for me as pajamas the night before. She hadn't given me my old clothes back, so I couldn't even try to salvage my t-shirt and jeans to wear today.

Instead, I stared down at the second pile of clothes. They were all black. I was beginning to get the impression that black was a Shadowhunter's favorite color.

I looked longingly back at the bed. I was still tired, and I didn't mind missing a couple of meals if it let me have some more sleep. But the compulsive urge that I had been aware of all my life was pounding in my head. _Draw. Now_.

Wincing with reluctance, I pulled on the tight black jeans and the deeply cut black top that Isabelle had left for me. I stared at myself in the mirror before I left the room, mortified. I looked ridiculous. It probably looked badass and sexy on Isabelle. No one with freckles would ever look badass.

My fingers twitched. Drawing. Right. Agonize over my own inescapable awkwardness later.

I glanced up and down the hallway uncertainly, trying to remember which direction I had come from the night before.

I could hear faint voices coming from somewhere to my left, and I followed the sound to the end of the hallway, then downstairs and into a kitchen. Jace and a young boy with glasses and wide, bright eyes were sitting at the kitchen table.

I hesitated as I always did upon encountering people I didn't know, but this was just a kid. I forced myself to keep going. "Hi," he said, turning to me with a smile. "I'm Max. Who are you?"

"I'm Clary," I said, giving him a small smile and meeting his eyes for a split second just to prove to myself that I could. I reached for an apple in the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter, though I wasn't really hungry.

"Clary's going to be staying with us for a while," Jace told the boy. "She just found out she's a Shadowhunter."

"Wow," Max said, sounding impressed. "That's a really big surprise."

I smiled down at my apple as I took a bite. "It was," I agreed.

"Hey," Jace said to Max. "I've got to talk with Clary about some of that stuff, and I promised I'd keep it a secret. Not my rule," he said when Max made a protesting noise. "Hodge's. Okay?"

"Fine." I didn't look up, but I could hear the scowl in Max's voice, and then pounding as he ran up the stairs.

"So," Jace said, moving until he was in front of me. I don't look at him, but I could feel the beginning of another blush coming on. "You look... nice."

I looked stupid, which I knew was what he wanted to say. I ducked my head, wanting to run away before I embarrassed myself further, but I needed him. No one was going to let me leave the Institute on my own.

"Can you... could you go with me to the art store?" I asked in a rush.

"You want me to take you shopping?" He sounded amused.

He made it sound so... trivial. Recreational. He didn't understand that if I didn't get a pen and paper in my hand soon, I was liable to steal someone's stele and start sketching on my own skin. I wasn't sure what would happen if you tried drawing something besides runes with a stele, but I had a feeling it wasn't good.

"Yes," I said. "Please."

"Okay," he said, and my shoulders slumped in relief. "But only if you look me in the eye."

"What?" My heart started pounding.

He shrugged casually. "Well, I'm pretty sure you have beautiful eyes. I just want to make sure."

The blood rose in my face again, but he didn't say anything. He didn't sound impatient, either, just stood there in front of me, waiting for me.

Finally I raised my eyes, up his toned chest visible under his black t-shirt, his neck, his jawline, and to his eyes. When his met mine, it was almost a physical sensation of pressure tightening low in my stomach.

Making eye contact was such a vulnerable experience. I'd always thought that, yet no one ever seemed to feel the same way. I'd never felt that vulnerability as much as I did now.

His eyes were a golden that I knew would be embedded behind my eyelids forever, a color I had never seen on anyone in real life before, and his face was even more beautiful than I had composed it mentally in my head from the glimpses I had been able to catch of it the night before.

He was looking at me with a strange expression. I didn't recognize it, but then again, there were a lot of expressions I didn't recognize. He didn't look angry, or amused, or mocking. He looked... soft? Intrigued?

Abruptly, I wanted him to touch me. I had never wanted anyone to touch me before. I didn't know what to do with the feeling, so I fought it back down, hoping he couldn't tell how hopeless I was, all while trying not to fall into his eyes.

"You're trembling," he said, breaking his eyes away from mine to glance down at my hands.

I could feel my whole body start to shake when he met my eyes again. "It's hard," I whispered.

A look of something like sadness and surprise crossed his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

Why would he? He'd probably never met anyone as weird as me. I dropped my eyes in relief, though I kept them somewhere around his chest range. Compared to looking into his eyes, staring at his chest was easy now.

He gestured me down the hall and toward the elevator. "I was right, though," he said, leaning down so he could speak directly in my ear.

"About what?" I asked. My hands still shook a little.

"Your eyes. They are beautiful."

* * *

 _Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought._


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you all for sharing your thoughts! It means so much to me. For the guest who asked about a Jace POV, man I totally get that desire. I don't think I can fit it into the current narrative, but maybe I could do what CC does and release certain critical scenes that we've already seen with Clary from Jace's POV? Is it too pretentious to want to do it the way the series' own author does? If I do it I'll release the alternate scenes in a separate fic and let you guys know that it's up. Does that work?

For lazyfangirl, yes! Clary definitely has her own fighting talents and will learn that being shy doesn't mean being weak. :)

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE**

As I stepped outside the Institute into a crisp spring morning, I froze. "Simon," I whispered to myself.

Jace stopped beside me. "What?"

Simon was getting back today. He might already be back. And my phone was back in my room, probably dead. "Could I use your phone?" I asked Jace.

He handed it to me without questioning me, and I dialed in Simon's number from memory.

He answered on the second ring. "This is Simon."

"Simon," I whispered. I repeated his name in a more normal voice. He always got on to me for whispering on the phone too low for him to hear.

"Clary! Holy shit, I've been trying to call you all morning! What happened? There's police tape in front of your house. Are you okay?"

 _Not really_ , I thought. "I'm fine," I said instead. "Can you meet me at the art supply store on Seventh?"

"Okay," he said slowly. "Now?"

"Yeah," I said, looking at Jace. I could tell he was watching me, but I was careful not to make eye contact again. I wasn't ready for another shock so soon after the last one.

He made no move to take his phone back or to tell me we couldn't go to the store, so I nodded, though of course Simon couldn't see it. "Yes. We're leaving now."

"Clary, who's 'we'?" Simon protested, but I pressed _end_ and handed the phone back to Jace without looking at him.

"My best friend," I mumbled before Jace could ask me. "The only other person I have, besides my mom." At least with Luke out of the picture. I wondered if he would come back when he found out she was missing.

"He can't know about our world, Clary," Jace said. "It puts both us and him in danger."

"I just need to see him."

Jace sighed but didn't try to argue with me as we walked.

Simon had never looked more wonderful to me than he did the moment I saw him waiting outside the store front to my favorite art supply store. He looked just like I remembered him, maybe slightly tanner from his mom and sister making him actually go outside with them during their week-long trip to Virginia Beach.

I ran up to him and after everything with my mom and the demons and the rest of it, I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. His hands came down after a moment to wrap around my upper back, moving slowly so that I could back away if I wanted to.

I didn't hug him that often (and never anyone else, besides my mom), and he knew how hard it was for me to reach out and do it. I closed my eyes and let myself relax, just for a moment, in my best friend's arms.

Then I started to step back, and he released me the instant I started moving, stepping backward to give me more room.

I smiled at him gratefully. I could usually manage to make at least some eye contact with Simon, though he never mentioned it either way.

"I missed you, Simon."

"Missed you too, Fray. Wanna tell me what's going on? Who is this?" I looked at him in confusion before remembering that yes, Jace was here.

"Jace," I said uncertainly. "He's... helping me." Simon looked unconvinced. "With finding my mom," I elaborated.

Simon looked at me in alarm. "What happened to your mom?"

I told him an abbreviated, supernatural-free version of events that made the Shadowhunters sound like some sort of underground vigilante movement crossed with the FBI. I wasn't sure how much Simon bought it, but I was getting antsy, my fingers twitching more and more as I glanced from Simon to the storefront, where I could see sketchbooks lined up from the window.

Simon noticed and smiled, cutting off whatever question he was going to ask next. "Okay, twitchy," he said. "Go draw."

Relieved, I rushed inside. I could hear Jace and Simon following, arguing about something. I tuned them out and scanned the store. They had rearranged since the last time I had been here.

"Clary!" I heard a woman's voice call out to me. I looked up to see Selah White, the store's owner, beckoning me over. I bit my lip and glanced around. I was so close to the charcoal section.

She called my name again and I reluctantly walked toward her, already nervous and tense. She was talking to two people I didn't know, and I barely knew Selah. My hands started to shake. Three practically strangers.

She gestured to the woman closer to her. "Clary, this is Morgan Velasquez. She was just telling me how much she likes your work."

"I do, Clary," the woman said. She was wearing a stylish business suit and high heels. "I'd like to talk to you about setting up an exhibit and doing some video interviews within the next few months. I really think it would be a good opportunity to get seen outside of North America."

I took a step backward. I wasn't able to meet her eyes even once. "I'm sorry, Ms. Velasquez, I don't... do those things."

The woman frowned. "Why on earth not? You have no idea how much of an impact it could have on your career. If you won't do the exhibit, let's at least get you on for some interviews in a video series on young artists my company is planning right now."

I took another step backward, looking around. "I can't, I'm sorry..."

The woman took a step toward me like she wanted to hold me in place until she'd convinced me, and I bumped into someone's chest.

I turned around to see Simon, who was holding up a big sketchpad and a case of graphite pencils. "Here," he said, handing them to me. "Have at it. I'll take care of this."

I took them with shaking hands and was barely able to get out a "thank you", before I was running off. I couldn't bring myself to turn to look at them. I was such an idiot. I had no idea why Simon still hung out with me.

I let myself into the tiny unisex restroom at the back of the store and sat down on the closed toilet lid, breathing heavily.

I wanted to cry. I always wanted to after horrible encounters like that one where I proved yet again that I was incapable of acting like a normal human being.

I wiped my eyes and tore the plastic off of the sketchpad and then the tin of pencils. My eyes still tearing up, I started with soft strokes - working up from 9B to 8B to 7B - and switched to the harder pencils once the image formed in my head.

My mom, sitting on the kitchen table yesterday morning as she'd talked to me, her legs hanging free. Telling me we needed to plan a weekend to go visit Luke at the country house, asking me how late I was going to be home after finishing my evening class at Parsons. She had always looked younger than she was, and when she smiled she looked even younger. Her hair was a little darker than mine, and straight where mine was wavy to curly, depending on the day.

The mom in this drawing didn't have anyone who would kidnap her. She didn't have enemies, she didn't know any state secrets. She was just my mom, the painter, the art studio owner.

My pencils moved quickly, but my heartbeat slowed as I got sharper and sharper - F, H, 2H - to get the foreground details in. The grip of her hands on the edge of the table, the brightness of her eyes, the individual hair strands flowing down her back and across her shoulders.

My anxiety was fading, and I was able to focus on the sounds I could hear outside the door now. I didn't know how long they'd been out there, but I'd been in here at least twenty minutes. Simon was probably going to make me come out soon.

The walls were thin, and when I heard my name I couldn't stop myself from listening as I heard voices coming closer to the door.

"-not easy being a prodigy," I heard Simon say. "Do you think she _likes_ all that attention? She doesn't. It's all probably made her shyer than she would have been if people had just left her alone."

There was a pause. "A... prodigy?" Jace's voice said.

"Did you think many other sixteen-year-olds taught college-level art classes?"

"She _teaches_... " Jace repeated in disbelief. "She said she went to Parsons!"

"She re-takes the classes she likes over and over. She's been doing that since she was twelve. But she's been a teaching assistant for painting and drawing classes for a couple years now. They'd probably let her lead them if they could trust her to talk enough."

"That's...incredible." Jace said, and I felt a warm rush of pleasure at the sincerity in his voice. "She never said..."

I could almost see Simon's shrug. "Well, how do you bring something like that up? 'By the way, I'm an art prodigy, I've had people offer tens of thousands of dollars for my paintings, everyone in the New York City art scene knows my name, etcetera, etcetera'?"

"Well, _I_ would certainly bring it up at every opportunity," Jace said, and I could picture his charming smile as he said it. "But I get why she wouldn't."

"I'm just telling you so you'll know she isn't stupid. People always seem to think that because she doesn't talk very much. But she's really smart, and really, _really_ talented. Don't be a dick to her."

"I'm not going to," Jace said, and his voice sounded solemn. "Seriously."

After a moment, there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Clary, are you ready to go?" Simon called out. "Your boyfriend said you can draw while we go get something to eat."

I turned bright red and threw open the door. "Jace is _not_ my boyfriend," I hissed at him.

They both laughed. "Give me time, Red," Jace said. "I'll grow on you."

Simon reached for my sketchpad and the pencils. "Selah said you can take these," he said. "I think she feels bad."

"She should," Jace said sharply. "That was an asshole-ish thing to do."

"She expects me to be normal," I said as Simon led us out of the shop. "It's not her fault I'm..." I swallowed miserably. "Not."

"Normality's overrated," Jace said easily. "For instance, I'm abnormally hot. We all have crosses to bear."

I hid a smile as we walked down a couple of blocks to a sandwich shop with outdoor cafe tables that Simon and I had eaten at a few times.

"Sit down, keep drawing," Simon instructed me. "I'll get you a sandwich. Turkey okay?"

I nodded absently, reaching for the pencils again and setting the sketchpad against my knees. I needed to finish up the background; the paint peeling on the edge of our little kitchen window, a couple of empty wine bottles lined up neatly against the counter next time we had stuff to take down to glass recycling, a recyclable grocery bag hanging over the edge of another chair with part of the stitching coming loose. I wanted to capture that moment yesterday morning in time.

I finally set my pencil down and examined the drawing as objectively as I could. I could tighten up the angles a little bit on the table, maybe shift my mom's crossed legs into a slightly more natural-looking position. That was about all I could see. It was decent for a forty minute sketch.

"Holy shit, Red," someone said, and I almost fell out of my chair. Jace had sat down next to me at the table at some point and was now tilting his head to see the drawing better.

Seeing him in profile, staring intently at something else, was an excellent opportunity for me to look at him without him looking at me. Now that I had a brief respite from his attention, I could see the slope of his straight nose, the soft, not quite girlish rise of his lips, and the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

I felt flustered just looking at him, and I had an uneasy feeling that he was going to feature in quite a lot of my portraits from here on out.

"You did this from memory?" Jace asked me, and it gave me time to look away before he turned to look at me. I wondered if he had done it on purpose. "In less than an hour?"

I blushed and looked at the ground. This one wasn't especially good.

Simon sat down next to us with three plastic plates for our sandwiches. "Again, prodigy," he answered for me. "She has a photographic memory."

I reached for a sandwich, and he nodded toward my sketchpad, still on my lap. "You know what happened last time you tried to eat on it."

I did remember. Spaghetti bolognese stains on some of my favorite sketches in Central Park. It had been a dark day.

I closed the pad and set it and the pencils carefully on the ground beneath my chair. Simon nodded approvingly and passed me my sandwich.

"Since it's clear I'm not going to get the truth today," Simon said casually, "is there a day in the future I might hope to be enlightened?"

I glanced at Jace, since it was his rule that I couldn't tell Simon everything. "Maybe," he said finally. "For now, no. The best thing you can do for her is to keep being her friend."

Simon thought about this, finally nodding. "I need to see her at least every other day," he said. "I get out of class at three."

"Do you go to Parsons with her?" Jace asked him, and Simon laughed.

"No, I'm a completely normal high school junior. Clary's the only spectacular one between us."

Jace nodded thoughtfully. "So you didn't meet in school?"

Simon shook his head. "I met Clary because she's my neighbor. She's never gone to normal school."

Jace nodded, turning to me with raised eyebrows. "You see, Red, if you would just talk to me I wouldn't have to learn about you from other people."

I shrugged, taking my last bite of my sandwich. It was hard to eat now that Jace's attention was back on me, but I forced myself to chew like a normal person and then swallow. "I'm not that interesting," I said quietly. Jace and Simon exchanged looks I couldn't read.

"I take it you're not going to let her stay at my house?" Simon asked Jace, who immediately shook his head.

"We've got protection you don't, and having her there would just put you in danger."

Simon nodded, not arguing the point. "Then you need to know how to take care of her."

I could feel Jace glance at me as I reached under my chair to get my sketchpad out again. "Don't you want her to tell me that?"

"I already know she won't tell you because she thinks she'll be a nuisance. Just tell me if I say anything you don't agree with, okay, Clary?" Simon asked me.

I nodded, knowing he wouldn't, and turned to the next page in my book. I really wanted to draw Jace now, but it would be embarrassing doing it right here in front of him. I decided to draw Izzy instead, how she'd looked last night with her eyes blazing after killing the demons, not a single bit of her lipstick smudged, her silver whip still in her hand.

"Probably the most important thing is that she has to be able to draw," Simon said. I let his voice flow over me as I picked through my pencils. "Or paint. It's not optional. It's a compulsion she feels that gets stronger and stronger until she does it. That's why she couldn't talk anymore when we were standing on the sidewalk when we first met. If she needs to do it, you have to let her."

I smiled down at the page. Simon, my amazing friend and amateur prodigy researcher, knew more about me than I did. As if he could read my mind, he leaned forward to squeeze my left hand, which was still resting on the table, very softly.

"Second is that she's good. Like, insanely good. She can create photorealistic drawings from a place she visited once when she was four. But I think all prodigies, at least the art ones, still worry deep down that they're awful. Don't let her doubt herself, but give her your honest opinion if she asks for it. And don't let her throw anything away if you can help it. She always tries to if there's something she doesn't like about it, even if it's incredible."

"Third," Simon said almost apologetically, "is that she's shy." I blushed. It was true, of course, and probably the thing I hated most about myself. "I can say that, right, Clary?" he asked. "If Jace knows, he'll know how to act to make it suck as little as possible."

I nodded. I'd already humiliated myself around Jace. He might as well know all the dirty details. "Jace already knows," I said, staring down at my paper. "But go ahead."

"Well, he'll be able to tell the others in this super special organization of yours." He turned back to Jace. "She gets nervous meeting new people, or when multiple people are looking at her or talking to her. She can get nervous in the middle of a conversation for no reason, even if you've talked to her before. You have to let her escape or at least take the attention off her if that happens. It's not something she can just get over. She can't 'tough it out'. And don't touch her," he added. Jace raised his eyebrows. "I mean, don't touch her in general because she's my best friend and you have impure intentions, but specifically don't touch her unless she touches you first."

"A stage we will reach soon, no doubt," Jace said smoothly. I didn't look up at him, but the fact that he was still joking like that after receiving what were practically "Instructions for the Care and Keeping of One Seriously Weird Teenage Girl" was probably one of the most reassuring things he could have done.

I glanced up to see Simon roll his eyes. "No doubt," he agreed blandly. He turned to me. "I should probably get going, Fray, unless you need me for something. I told my mom I'd be back to help her unpack."

I shook my head and rose, setting my sketchpad down on the table. "Thank you for coming," I told him. I genuinely didn't know what I would do without him in my life. I stood up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

He smiled down at me, and I was able to smile back and meet his eyes for a few seconds. "I don't care how weird your life gets, Fray, I'm going to be part of it." I heard Jace come up behind me, and they shook each other's hands in a manly way.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Simon," I said sincerely, and he waved and turned to walk back the way we had come.

"Izzy's going to go apeshit when she sees this, Red," Jace said from behind me.

I turned to see that he had sat back down at the table and moved his chair a little closer to mine as he peered at my drawing more head-on.

"In a bad way or a good way?" I asked, taking my seat again.

He took both hands off the table to avoid accidentally touching me, and I was grateful for it. "Are you serious? She's going to want this framed and hung in her room so that she can kiss it every morning."

I giggled at the thought and picked up another pencil to begin making some refinements to the drawing.

I could feel Jace make a slight movement in my peripheral vision. "So you do laugh," he said teasingly. "I wasn't sure."

I could feel a blush coming on again and let my hair fall in front of my face to try to hide it.

Jace chuckled, and something about the way he did it made me feel like he was laughing with me, not at me.

"You know I'm going to devote my life from now on to making you blush, right?" he asked.

I shook my head and kept my eyes on the paper, but I couldn't fight back a smile. I'd gladly pay the price of my embarrassment to keep him with me.

It had only been a day, but something about Jace had me gravitating toward him. Maybe the feeling should have scared me, but it didn't. I'd never felt more alive in my life.

* * *

 _Thank you all for reading! Let me know what you thought!_


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

I walked with Jace along the streets of Manhattan after I finished up the drawing of Isabelle and finally felt like I could breathe for the first time all day without my compulsion to draw disrupting my thoughts. He insisted on holding my sketchbook and pencils so that I could walk freely.

Most of our time together consisted of me listening to his monologues, which were on average probably about fifty percent true and the remaining half shameless lies. I laughed more with him than I could ever remember.

I always had a great time with Simon, but he wasn't the most gregarious person, so sometimes we just didn't talk a whole lot when we were together.

Jace, on the other hand, seemed to have finally found a captive audience. Me.

Each time I started to feel guilty about not being upset about my mom I reminded myself that there was nothing I could do yet as we waited on the elder Lightwoods to return home. Sitting at the Institute without anything to distract me wouldn't accomplish anything.

Finally Jace led us back on a very roundabout path to the Institute, and I stepped into what was now my room a few minutes later, tired but happier than I had been in a long time.

Remembering what Jace had said about my drawing of Izzy, I looked down at the sketchpad in my hand uncertainly. I wasn't used to giving my art to people as presents. If there was ever one I thought Simon might like, I just gave it to him whenever I saw him next, and anything my mom especially liked she would just take from me and hang up somewhere in our house.

Jace had insisted that Isabelle would love hers, though. And she had been nice to me. She had seemed to pick up on my extreme social ineptitude and had helped me interact with Jace and Alec the night we'd met.

Finally, I tore out the page carefully and walked two doors down to her room. I knocked, and she shouted, "Come in!"

She was sitting on her bed reading a magazine, and she jumped up when she saw me. "Clary, hi! You look so cute in those clothes."

I glanced down. I had completely forgotten I was wearing them. Maybe they were okay after all. "Thanks for lending them to me," I said. I was starting to feel ridiculous, but I was here, so I should finish what I started, no matter how terribly it went. "Um, I drew you this morning. I usually just draw whoever and don't tell them, but Jace said I should give this one to you. Here."

I thrust the paper out to her, not able to look at her face. She took it from me and examined it carefully. I prepared to run out the door.

"Clary," she said slowly. My heart sank. "This is so, so, _amazingly_ good. Thank you! I love it!"

I couldn't help myself. I looked up and saw her give me a broad smile. A returning smile crossed my lips as I looked away. There was something infectious about Isabelle's personality. She was enthusiastic in a way that wasn't vapid or insincere.

"Thanks. And no problem." Before she could say anything else, I practically ran out the room and returned to my bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed until I was breathing normally.

I had done it. Just barely, and it hadn't been pretty, but I'd managed to have an actual conversation with someone I barely knew and make it out alive.

Maybe one day I'd be able to do it without having an anxiety attack halfway through.

* * *

The Lightwoods came back that evening. I was sitting upright on my bed when I heard them come upstairs, talking loudly to each other. My knees were up to prop my sketchbook on, and I had been drawing for several hours. My hand was starting to hurt, but I didn't stop. I had too much running through my mind, making it hard to think of anything except the pencil in my hand.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and my hand tightened on the pencil.

I knew there were at least two new people out there if it was just the Lightwoods, and I was going to have to talk to them. Plus if Isabelle and Alec were there, they were barely not strangers, too. Well, maybe just Alec was. Maybe Isabelle didn't count as a stranger anymore.

"Come in," I said reluctantly.

Jace stepped into the room. He had changed from what he'd been wearing earlier into almost the same clothes, just denim of a slightly different shade and a dark blue shirt instead of a black one.

"Hey, Red," he said. "Maryse and Robert want to meet you."

Though I knew the words were coming, I still flinched back on the bed so my back was pressed hard against the headboard, my sketchbook clutched to my chest.

"Jace, I can't."

He stepped farther into the room, and I could see his eyes clearly now as I darted a glance at his face. They were darker since the sun was almost completely down and I had only a bedside lamp illuminating my room, but they still reflected more light than I thought they should.

"I've explained to them what they need to do," he said calmly. "They understand. And I'll be right there. I'll take you away if it gets too bad."

I looked down at my sketchpad again. I was in the middle of drawing a scene from my childhood, when my mother had taken me to a Day of the Dead celebration in Manhattan after she'd gotten tired of me drawing scenes from my own limited exposure to the world over and over again (though I understood the reasons for her protectiveness better now).

People had painted their faces to look like skeletons and danced and sang in the streets. My mom and I had hung back so that I didn't get too overwhelmed by being so close to so many people, but there had been a strangeness about the experience that had stayed with me.

"And you can draw while you're talking to them," Jace said, with a winning smile as I glanced up as high as his lips.

I knew I was going to have to face them eventually. And if Jace was there, I felt oddly secure for someone I had only just met. Somehow I was convinced that he cared enough to look out for me.

Finally, I stood up. "Fine," I said reluctantly. I tucked my sketchpad and a couple pencils under my arm, and Jace led me out of the room.

"It's just going to be the two of them," he said as we walked down the silent corridor. "I made sure of it. They'll want to talk to you about your mom and yourself, and probably about the Mortal Cup."

"But I don't know anything about the Mortal Cup," I protested.

"They know, but they think you might have seen or heard something you didn't consciously associate with it."

I didn't bother protesting yet again, that I knew nothing. I wasn't some secret conspirator with whatever connections my mom still held to the Shadow world.

The Lightwood parents were waiting for me downstairs in one of the Institute's... living rooms? Parlors? I didn't know the name for all these rooms the Institute held, though I'm sure each one had had a specific meaning in an earlier century.

There were just the two of them, as Jace had promised.

"Clary, this is Robert and Maryse," Jace said, stopping in the doorway. I ran my eyes over them briefly before dropping them. Maryse had long black hair that looked just like Isabelle's, and her husband was tall, with dark hair and a trimmed beard.

I nodded. "Clary Fray," I said, unable to meet their eyes. I was grateful that they didn't offer to shake my hand.

Jace gestured me to one of the sofas and sat down beside me, leaving about a foot between us. I clutched my sketchpad to my chest nervously, wondering if they would be angry if I went back to drawing right away.

I was actually tempted to draw them, since they were going to be right in front of me for who knew how long, but I didn't like the way they didn't quite relax into each other like couples should. I didn't like drawing unhappy people. I wondered if they had been fighting before they'd returned to the Institute.

I returned to my Día de Muertos drawing instead and let the questions flow over me.

Had I ever heard my mom mention a cup of any kind? No.

Was I aware that I was different from other people? Yes, I couldn't resist saying. But as a prodigy, not as a Shadowhunter. Jace snorted beside me at that.

Had my mother ever said anything about Valentine Morgenstern? No, she had never mentioned her life before she'd met my father.

Had my mother ever mentioned the Circle, the Clave, or any part of the Nephilim's world? Still no.

Had I ever met any other Shadowhunters or Downworlders. Not that I knew of.

What did I know about my father? Almost nothing. He died in combat just before I was born.

After half an hour of unproductive questioning, I had a question of my own. "Do you think Valentine took my mom?"

I looked up to see the Lightwoods glance at each other. "That's our best guess," Maryse said. She ran a hand through her long hair tiredly. "I think, unless you have anything to add, Clary, we can be done here. You're welcome to stay at the Institute for as long as you need. This place is meant to be, among other things, a safe haven open to all Shadowhunters."

"Thanks," I said softly. I missed my house, but not as much as I'd expected to. It was like some part of my unconsciousness thought this should be my home.

The Lightwoods and Jace all stood up, and Jace reached for my sketchpad as we walked out of the room. He looked down at my most recent drawing.

"I couldn't stop looking at this in there," he said, opening to that page again as we walked. "What on earth is it? And why are all the people dressed up to look like skeletons?"

"It's a Mexican holiday," I told him. "The Day of the Dead. They celebrate the people in their lives they've lost, and they believe that the dead souls can hear them during the holiday."

"Interesting," he said thoughtfully. "I doubt it's effective, but who knows?"

"You don't?" I was surprised. "But you know all about angels and demons."

"True, but none of us knows what really happens to the souls of dead humans, if souls even exist."

"Oh." I digested this while we walked. "I was hoping learning about this life, who I was, might answer some questions for me. But it's just given me even more."

He laughed. "You'll find out soon, if you haven't already: we're very far from perfect, and we have very little figured out."

We were almost at my door, but Jace stopped briefly to point out one a few doors down from mine. "That's my room," he said, handing me my sketchpad back. "Come find me if you need anything."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks." Without giving myself time to think better of it, I let my eyes flicker up to his. He broke into a grin when we made eye contact.

"Still beautiful."

I blushed and hurried the rest of my way down the bedroom. I could hear him chuckle behind me.

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, I knew immediately where I was, and I didn't feel frightened anymore. It was incredible how fast humans adjusted. The Institute, being a Shadowhunter; it was all becoming my new normal.

Bright sunlight was streaming through the window in my bedroom, and I decided to seek out more sunlight to draw in. I was going to have to get some paints soon, but drawing was fulfilling the urge for now. I wondered if Jace would take me again since our previous visit had been derailed by my reaction to talking to strangers. I fought down the urge to blush at the completely mundane thought of talking to Jace.

I grabbed my sketchpad and pencils and headed toward the kitchen. Max was alone when I got there, sitting at the dining room table. He was flipping through a book of manga I recognized, his brows furrowed.

"One Piece," I said as I walked in.

He glanced up at me. "Hi, Clary! Yeah, Jace bought it for me, but I think it's in the middle of the series."

"Yeah, that's volume eight," I said as I looked around for the bowl of fruit.

He closed it to look at the cover. "You couldn't read the number from here!"

I smiled. "I have a good memory. You need to tell Jace get you the first one, or you're going to be confused."

"Get you the first one what?" Jace asked, stepping silently into the room. He was wearing a tight black shirt, his usual, but his pants weren't jeans but something made of looser material. "I'm going to go train," he said, noting my confused expression.

"Clary said you got me volume eight!" Max piped up. "I'm going to be confused."

I flicked my gaze upward just enough to see Jace's grin. "I'm deeply sorry, Maxwell. I'll remedy the situation next time I'm near a comic book store."

"Maybe you could take Clary with you," Max said. "She knows how to do it right."

Jace laughed. "I'll take that under advisement." He turned to me. "Do you want to come watch us train? You might see something you'd like to try."

The familiar feeling of nervousness was back. "Just you?" I asked him.

"Me and Alec," Jace said. He saw my hesitation, and said, "I'll make him be nice, Clary. You don't have to talk to him unless you want to."

I'd never drawn anyone fighting before. That could be a challenge, which I always appreciated. Drawing near-static figures got old after a while. "Okay," I said finally. "But I'm just going to watch."

"And draw me, I fully anticipate," Jace said as I followed him out of the kitchen with a goodbye wave to Max. "I can't tell you how much it hurts my feelings that you drew Izzy before you drew me."

"How do you know I'll ever draw you?" I asked him curiously.

He threw me a dazzling smile. "I mean, have you _seen_ me?"

I shook my head, but I blushed a little too. I could feel him watching me, and though I didn't look up at him, I could feel his smugness radiating off of him.

He held open the door to a large room with weapons hanging on all the walls, along with punching bags and other equipment pushed to one side of the room. Alec was already in there, whirling about with a dagger. He hadn't seen us yet.

I stepped back automatically, remembering how Alec had glared at me the night I had met them and almost ran into Jace, who had come up behind me.

"I'm going to bring him over here," he said softly. "And he's going to tell you he won't be a dick to you. I've already told him how he has to act. Okay?"

I still wanted to run away, but something in Jace's soothing voice had me nodding reluctantly.

"Alec," he said in a normal voice. Alec looked up mid-thrust and stopped what he was doing immediately and began to walk over. He was a little taller than Jace and much more intimidating. I couldn't bring myself to look at him properly, already knowing the dislike that I would find in his eyes.

"Come tell Clary you're not going to be a dick to her," Jace instructed him as he stopped in front of us.

Alec sighed. "I promise I'm not going to be a dick to you, Clary. Unless you deserve it," he added.

"I guess that's fair." I glanced up enough to see Alec's surprised grin.

"I'll play nice," he promised. "You may have saved my life, after all."

"That's very generous of you, Alec," Jace said in a patient tone. He gestured to the far wall, where there were some padded mats scattered around. "It'll probably be most comfortable for you to sit over there," he told me.

"Are we under observation?" Alec asked as they stopped in the center of the floor. I kept walking to the mats and sat down cross-legged with my sketchpad and pencils on the floor beside me.

Jace stretched his arms behind his back and rolled his neck. "Well, I instructed Clary very clearly to draw me, but it's possible she'll draw you instead out of spite."

I smiled down at the empty page. I had been planning on drawing both of them, but after that little comment, drawing Alec alone was what Jace deserved.

Once they were distracted by sparring, I concentrated on the shape of Alec's face, how his body tightened and moved in motion, the muscles along his forearm and shoulders. He was leaner than Jace, an intent sort of energy in his every movement that was distinct from Jace's almost relaxed fighting style.

Smiling smugly, I lost myself in the drawing, letting myself take my time with it. Neither Alec nor Jace showed any signs of stopping any time soon, so I fully drew in the background as well, which I didn't always do.

Sometime later, I saw a shape walking toward me out of my peripheral vision, and I looked up to see Jace looking down at me. He smiled when he saw what I had just finished drawing. "You asshole," he said lightly as he pulled the sketchpad from me.

He held it up to Alec, who was walking toward us. "You get your own drawing," he said grumpily.

Alec wiped his hands off with a nearby rag before taking the sketchpad. He broke out into a reluctant smile as he looked down on it. "Finally, someone recognizes how much better I am than you."

Jace snorted, and Alec handed the sketchpad back to me. "It's really good, Clary," he said, in what sounded like a genuinely nice tone.

I ducked my head. "Thanks. Um, you can have it if you want it."

Alec hesitated. "It feels really self-centered to keep a drawing of myself."

"Nonsense," Jace said. He carefully tugged the page out of the spirals and handed it to Alec. "Hold on to it. I want to be able to prove how much better mine is."

"How do you know you're ever going to get one?" Alec asked him, holding the page carefully.

"I have to be next," Jace retorted. "Who else has she got left to draw?"

I smiled, and I was comfortable enough to glance up at the two of them without making eye contact, running my eyes over them both. "Max is next."

Alec snorted with laughter, and I laughed at the appalled expression on Jace's face.

It was so odd, after years of only talking to my mom, Luke, and Simon, to know that there were other people in the world who wouldn't treat me like a freak, who would talk to me like a normal human... well, Shadowhunter.

It was a nice surprise, and I realized I liked living in this world. I didn't want to leave it, even if... _when_ I got my mom back.

I felt like I belonged here more in three days than I had for my entire life in the mundane world.

* * *

 _Thank you as always for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you all for such a positive reception on the last chapter! I especially love reading those that have your opinions on the story. For sophiecampbellbower about getting more Simon time - that I can absolutely do. He's not in this chapter, but we'll see him again in the next one, which was already the plan, but I will keep that in mind as I'm editing and adding to the remaining chapters. And I'm so glad that you guys like Sassy!Clary. She's shy but the girl's definitely still got an attitude.

This one's extra long because I didn't like any of the options I had for dividing it into two chapters, so enjoy!

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

That evening, Maryse called Jace, Alec, Izzy, and me to her office and told us that she had received permission from the Clave to contact a warlock on behalf of tracking my mother: Magnus Bane. The name created an odd sensation of recognition in me, but I couldn't chase the feeling any further than that.

"Talk to him, but agree to nothing," she instructed Alec, who I had learned was eighteen and therefore the only adult among us in the Clave's eyes. "Then come and tell me what he says."

Alec nodded, and we traipsed out of her office. "Do you know where to find him?" I asked Alec. I registered Jace and Izzy's presence, but I was rapidly growing used to them, leaving me much less tense than usual when I had to talk with all three of them present.

"He's at a party tonight," Isabelle answered before Alec could. "To be more specific, he's hosting a party tonight."

"How do you know that?" Jace asked, sounding surprised. "Downworlders don't usually keep us up to date on their recreational activities."

She gave him a suggestive smile. "Meliorn invited me." Jace and Alec both rolled their eyes.

"Meliorn?" I asked her.

"My faerie FWB," she said simply. It took me a moment to process that, and then I blushed. She laughed. "You are the cutest thing ever. Now, let's get you dressed and made up. We only have a couple of hours before we'll need to leave, so we'll have to move fast."

"That's not enough time?" I asked faintly. I could count on one hand the number of times I'd even worn makeup.

I looked at Jace helplessly, and I met his eyes to add weight to my beseeching look. He immediately broke out into a smile when our eyes met, but he stepped backward all the same, holding his hands up. "You're on your own, Red," he said with a laugh. "We know not to step on Izzy's turf."

Izzy dragged me down the hall into her room, which was its usual chaos of pink and black and clothes and lacy underwear.

"So, what do you usually wear when you dress up?" she asked me.

I stared at her uncertainly. "I've never had anything to dress up for. I guess my mom takes me out to nice dinners on my birthday.

She looked at me disbelievingly? "No parties? No dances?"

"Isabelle..." I stared at the floor. "You know what I'm like, kind of, by now."

She put her hands on her hips. "Like a completely normal girl who's a little shy and incredible at art?"

I blushed again. "I wish." And I really did. I wished that was all that was wrong with me.

She pursed her lips. "We'll be with you tonight," she said. "You won't have to speak, and we'll stop anyone from touching you. Jace would probably punch anyone who tried." A mischievous smile lit up her face. "Actually, that might be entertaining."

"Jace..." I echoed, uncertain as to why she was mentioning him specifically.

The desire to know made me actually make eye contact with her, and Isabelle gave me a look I couldn't read, though there was something amused lurking at the corners of her mouth. "Come on," she said without answering my unspoken question. "We'll find something that goes with that wild red hair of yours."

* * *

Black, I learned, went with red hair, at least in Isabelle's eyes. She'd debated between a bright green dress and the black one I was currently wearing, and she'd seen me shrink back from the colorful one, though she claimed it made my eyes look incredible.

She gave in, though, and handed me a dress that I was mildly but not unbearably uncomfortable in, since she'd let me cover most of my skin. I wasn't concerned that the people at the party would stare because I was pretty, which I knew I wasn't, but the contrast between my pale skin and the black of the dress might, if nothing else, be eye-catching.

She'd relented and let me wear black tights under my dress, though she'd said it was not a tights-wearing kind of dress, whatever that meant. When I'd stared at my bare arms forlornly, she'd frowned but searched in her closet for a tight, stretchy, short cardigan that tied in a knot just under my breasts. Everything on me was tight, but at least my skin was almost entirely covered, so I figured that was the best I was going to get.

After getting into one of the slinkiest, glittery-est red dresses I had ever seen in my entire life, Isabelle had put on her typical dark makeup and turned to me. I had protested but was generally ignored, but she proclaimed my skin near perfect and that my stupid (admittedly my words, not hers) freckles didn't detract from my appearance. The end result was that I was only wearing eye makeup and lipstick, which was still much more than I was used to feeling on my face, but since Izzy had wanted to put so much more on me, I still sort of came out feeling victorious.

Jace and Alec were waiting for me in the hallway, dressed slightly nicer than they had been a few hours before, in button-up dress shirts and dark wash jeans. Alec just gave us a vaguely amused, vaguely disinterested look as we walked in, but Jace froze in the act of pushing himself languidly off the wall and stared at me.

I blushed and dropped my eyes to the floor, watching his boots as they walked up to me. He leaned toward me, carefully not to touch me, and pulled out the two elegant pins that Isabelle had carefully worked through my hair to hold it up in an elegant chignon. My hair, now freed, fell loose to my mid-back.

"Now you're perfect," he whispered in my ear as he drew back from me. I shivered.

"Jace..." Isabelle protested. It had taken her twenty minutes to decide how to style and then do my hair.

I looked up to see him toss her an insolent grin. She shook her head but didn't say anything more as we walked out of the Institute. My cheeks were still hot from feeling him standing so close to me.

I studiously ignored the fact that I knew I had a hair tie somewhere in my purse. I knew I would be keeping my hair down all night if it killed me.

* * *

I didn't usually struggle in crowds too much, as long as there was enough room that I didn't have to touch anyone and no one was looking at me. But I almost had a panic attack when I saw through the windows how many people were crammed inside Magnus Bane's apartment.

Worse, there was the fact that we were seeking him out, which meant he, at the very least, would be paying attention to me. I had a sinking feeling that I was going to have to face some of my worst fears.

I stood frozen in the doorway, trying to calm down my breathing. We hadn't rung the doorbell yet, as all three of the others stared at me with varying degrees of concern.

"We can try to talk to him without you, Clary," Isabelle said uncertainly. "But I'm not sure if he'll agree to see us without you there to explain why we need him."

"We can find another way," Jace added when I didn't respond immediately.

"I need to find my mom," I said, my nervousness making me speak almost inaudibly. "This is the next step to doing that, right?"

Isabelle hesitated, and then nodded. "You don't have to do this, Red," Jace said again.

I squared my shoulders, trying to summon the faintest feeling of bravery. It didn't come. "No, I can do this. Just... stay close to me? All of you?"

"Of course," he said, and glanced at Alec, who was closest to the door.

Alec nodded and rang the doorbell. After at least a minute, an Asian man in a deep purple suit and glitter around his eyes and in his hair opened the door. Just like I had when I heard his name, I felt the slightest sense of recognition. I knew this man. Or, at least, I _should_.

His eyes fell on me immediately, and I managed to hold eye contact long enough to know I was right. Then they fell, oddly, on Alec. He barely glanced at Jace or Isabelle.

"I seem to have forgotten inviting four Nephilim to my party. That seems like the sort of thing I would remember."

Isabelle waved the invitation. "Actually, we were invited."

Magnus glanced at the invitation disinterestedly. "Only in the loosest sense of the word." He looked at me again. "I suspect I know why you're here."

Jace gave him a curious look as Magnus finally opened the door enough for us to come inside. "Do you?"

The warlock just shook his head. "Follow me."

His living room was packed with people I was fairly confident weren't human, or at least not entirely. Just from a brief glance around, I saw forked tails, hair made of flowers, pointed teeth that were at least three inches long, and a man with three eyes. Music was pounding so hard I could feel it through my shoes, and the lights were dim, with flashing, multicolored strobe lights playing on over the masses.

It was just the sort of place my nightmares were made of. I stopped just inside the doorway, meaning Jace and Alec almost ran into me. I turned, ready to run back out the front door.

"Hey," Jace said, bending down a little so I could hear him over the noise. "We're going to walk on either side of you. Izzy's going to lead the way. She'll clear people out of our way with her whip if she has to."

Isabelle made an almost eager sound of agreement.

"And no one's going to touch you. We'll play bodyguards. And I'll make Alec shoot anyone who tries."

Alec rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue with Jace.

I still hesitated. If I was led through the crowd like a celebrity, people were inevitably going to look at me. I wouldn't be able to breathe at the thought of dozens of people staring at me. I could already feel my heart pounding in my ears.

"Why don't you close your eyes?" he said. "You'll have to hold on to my arm, which, since you're the only girl in the world who doesn't have to fight down the desire to grope me at any opportune moment, may not be fun for you, but I bet it's better than seeing anyone watching you."

I needed to find my mother. _I needed to find my mother._

I took a deep breath. "Okay."

He held out his arm, and my fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt at the crook of his elbow. It felt shockingly weird and intimate at the same time to intentionally touch someone besides my parents and Simon, even if it was through fabric.

I felt my fingers automatically go limp and try to let go, but I held on. Jace waited patiently for me to get my shit figured out, and I finally forced my fingers to tighten around his arm again.

"Ready?" he said.

I nodded and closed my eyes, and we began walking. I could feel Alec just a few inches from my right side, walking in step with us, and I peeked at the floor in front of us just long enough to see Isabelle's confident strides in her deadly looking red stiletto shoes.

"No one's looking," Jace said in my ear. "Seriously, no one's looking. Even I can't compete with three naked faerie girls dancing on the kitchen table."

I almost smiled at that, but still tucked in closer to his side. There were more people around me now. I heard their voices, felt the floor move where they danced.

Finally there were stairs underneath me, and I opened my eyes to take them without falling.

"I forgot what you were like," Magnus said when we reached the second floor landing, where he was waiting outside a closed door. He sounded genuinely apologetic. "Your mother told me, but I never experienced it firsthand. I always made sure we would be alone when she came to the apartment anyway, for privacy reasons."

With that mysterious statement, Magnus led us inside, and I let go of Jace's arm. We were standing in an office, I supposed, though it had wall-to-wall orange shag carpeting and a mirrored ceiling.

"So, you want your memories back," Magnus told me matter-of-factly, leaning against the desk in the room.

I couldn't help glancing up at him again. "I... do?"

"Well, you didn't show up here just to bring me this magnificent eye candy to goggle at," he said impatiently, looking over at Alec again, who turned bright red.

Jace and Isabelle looked as surprised as I did at this turn of events. "What are my memories of?" I said uncertainly. Something about the familiarity of Magnus made me able to talk to him more easily than I usually could when first talking to complete strangers.

"Things you saw with the Sight, mostly," Magnus said nonchalantly. "She was hoping you'd be one of those born without it coming naturally to you, but it did. She brought you to me every couple of years to hide the memories within your mind."

"She?" I asked, but I already knew the answer.

Magnus supplied it anyway, turning his bright cat eyes on me. "Your mother, of course."

I nodded dumbly. Any hope that my mother had simply been an innocent bystander in all the things that had happened in my life was gone.

"Now, normally, I'd charge you handsomely for the service. But considering I have a couple of your paintings and half a dozen of your drawings hanging in my apartment, I'll let it slide."

That threw me. "You do?"

His eyes sparkled. "You always loved drawing and painting all the miraculous things in my house. Not least of all me. There is a particularly magnificent portrait of me above the fireplace in my bedroom this very instant, in fact."

It was unbelievably weird to believe there were paintings I had done of this man I couldn't even remember.

"Jocelyn would always show up a few hours early so that you could draw or paint. She didn't see the harm in giving you some variety, since I was just going to lock your memories away again anyway."

"I want them back," I said without glancing at the others. It felt selfish, not to ask Magnus about tracking my mother right away, but they were _my_ memories. I wanted them back. And maybe there would be something in them that would help me find my mother.

None of the others argued with me, and Magnus just sighed. "Of course you do." He pulled the desk chair back and gestured for me to sit on it.

"I did an excellent job with this," he muttered. "To now have to undo it is so tiresome." I felt his cool fingers spread out and rest on the top of his head, and then he was murmuring words I didn't understand.

I felt like I was falling, and I bit my lip to keep from yelling. Something was moving inside my head. I was somehow experiencing thoughts - memories - that _I_ wasn't directing. It was terrifying.

I caught glimpses of my mother, much younger, with runes decorating her arms, of a young Simon, of tiny floating creatures dancing in the wildflowers in the park, of sitting in a lavishly decorated apartment with a canvas in front of me in what I suspected was the very apartment I was sitting in now.

I whimpered, and my hands clenched air.

" _Stop_."

It wasn't my voice. My eyes flew open to find Jace's, his expression tense as he watched me. He looked almost afraid, which was impossible. Nothing scared Jace. "You're hurting her."

Magnus's hands released me, and I slumped backward against the chair, gasping.

Magnus took a few steps backward, looking drained. "It's just as well. I've loosened them as much as I could. If I try any more, the knot will get tighter, and the loss will be irreversible. This way they'll come to you, over time. Quicker if you experience something similar that triggers them."

"What are they?" Jace asked, but he didn't take his eyes off of me. I stared at my lap, my fingers twisting nervously. "What will she remember?"

"The other half of her life," Magnus said. "All the things that connected her to being Nephilim, to demons, to the entire supernatural world."

I stared at him. Already my head felt heavier somehow, weighted down with new memories I couldn't quite touch yet. They lurked just out of sight, and I was afraid of them. Afraid at what I'd find, about myself, about my mother. Afraid of my world being torn apart yet again.

Just then, there was an ear-piercing cry of rage, followed by a wolf-like howl and loud crashing. "For gods' sake, I rotate inviting werewolves and vampires for a _reason_ ," Magnus growled.

Jace, Alec, and Izzy all took a step forward like they were going to rush into whatever fight was clearly taking place downstairs.

"No, stay out of this," Magnus said impatiently. "Having Nephilim around is just going to make everything worse." He pushed past them so that he could hurry down the stairs. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out." He looked back over his shoulder and grinned at Alec. "And call me, pretty boy!"

"But-" Alec started. Magnus was already gone.

As we walked back down the stairs a minute later, I could see that the partygoers had all gathered against the far end of Magnus's apartment, near the balcony, where a woman who seemed to have shaggy brown fur and a long, pointed canines was being held back by one group as she tried to free herself to attack a pure white-skinned man with razor sharp teeth. Magnus was yelling something over the shouts, and both parties seemed to be enduring a lecture, if their sullen expressions were any indication.

Jace and Isabelle still looked tempted to go over, but Alec shook his head and tugged at both of their arms. "Magnus was right. We wouldn't make anything better, and we might get in trouble with the Clave if we interfere."

After a moment, Jace nodded, though he gave Alec a sidelong look I couldn't identify. "Fine," Izzy said grumpily, and we kept walking. There wasn't anyone to worry about bumping into this time, since all of Magnus's guests seemed to be enjoying the fight, and I managed to make it out of there just watching my feet on the floor in front of me.

"No one to appreciate how hot we look, and no demon slaying," Isabelle said, scowling, as we let ourselves out the front door. "What a waste."

"I would hate an excellent outfit to be wasted," Jace agreed solemnly, but his eyes weren't on Isabelle. I could feel him looking in my direction. "Taki's? At least the excellent patrons there will be able to appreciate our spectacular beauty before we go home."

Isabelle brightened. "Some of the Fair Folk might be there. They might tell Meliorn how good I look tonight."

"Yes, I hear faeries are quite the fashionistas," Jace said. "Is that okay, Red?" he asked me. "It's a restaurant for supernaturals. We'll be the least interesting people there, and it shouldn't be too crowded."

I'd survived an actual party. I could survive a restaurant, right? Plus, I was starving.

"Okay," I said finally.

Jace smiled, like he was genuinely happy I had agreed, and that alone made it worth it.

* * *

Jace led us to a Chinese restaurant in a rundown building. It said it only did takeout, but I guessed we could stand outside while they made it. As I was studying it, Jace moved to my side. Like always, I could feel exactly where he was standing in relation to me. His arm almost grazed mine as he pointed at the storefront.

"Peel it away with your eyes," he said. "It's a glamor for mundanes meant to cover up what it really looks like."

I examined the building, imagining it to be a layer of paint I was stripping off. The mechanics came almost naturally, and I wondered if it was something my unlocked memories were helping with. Maybe I had done this before.

Suddenly I saw a brightly lit restaurant with a front door and booths visible through the large storefront windows. A sign over it said "Taki's Diner".

"I see it!" I said in wonder. I glanced over at Jace to see his expression. He gave me a smile and led the way inside.

He went in first, I thought maybe to clear a path, and gestured for me to come after him. Luckily he had been right; only a few other people were in there. Like at Magnus's party, I was quickly learning that I couldn't anticipate what some of the Downworlders would look like. One man had pastel pink hair that moved in a breeze that didn't exist in the restaurant, and there was a couple with skin that looked like tree bark cuddling in the corner.

Jace sat in the nearest booth, and I sat across from him. He handed me a menu already on the table. "Stick with the normal food for the first time. Faerie food can have... interesting side effects."

"That's one word for it," Isabelle said, sliding in beside me but being careful not to get closer than a few inches from me. "'Running down the street naked except for antlers' would be another one."

"What would you like to eat, Clary?" Jace said smoothly, as if Isabelle hadn't spoken.

I didn't respond. My eyes were back on the man with the pink hair, and abruptly I wanted to draw him. I needed to capture the deep shadows of fluorescent lighting on his pale, wispy hair, the sense of movement even when he was sitting still.

My fingers clenched, and I automatically reached toward my purse, but Isabelle had made me bring a sleek black purse instead of my normal bookbag. There wasn't room in this purse for the pad I had been using at the Institute, and my smaller sketchpads that might have fit were back in my ransacked house somewhere.

I realized Isabelle was speaking to me, a thread of worry in her voice. "Clary? What's wrong?"

I bit my lip, automatically looking to Jace. He had been there when Simon had explained the compulsion. "Stay there," he told me. "I'll be right back," he told the others. "Order my usual."

A blonde waitress who was making her way to our table called out something to him that I didn't catch, but his long strides didn't waver. The girl rolled her eyes but made her way over to us. "The usual?" she asked in a bored tone.

"Yes," Isabelle said. "Except for Clary. What do you want?"

I shook my head, staring down at my hands. They were twisting and clenching on the table.

"Coconut pancakes for her, too," Izzy said after a moment.

The waitress nodded and returned to the counter, leaning over to hang her receipt on one of the hooks leading to the kitchen. I narrowed my eyes at the tiny order pad. I could use that if I had to. I wondered what it would take to get her to give it to me. Begging? Threats?

I fought down the urge as well as I could. Neither Alec nor Izzy spoke for the next few minutes, and I knew they were probably staring at my craziness. I ducked my head, my fingers twitching outside of my control.

Then Jace stepped into my line of sight, and I blinked. He was holding out a plastic shopping bag across Izzy and to me.

Bemused, I took it and looked inside it. There were two spiral bound notebooks, one with wide-ruled lines and one with graph paper, and a package of mechanical pencils.

"That's all they had," he said, sounding apologetic. Alec scooted over, and he sat down so that he was now seated diagonally from me.

"Where'd you get that?" Alec asked him as I unwrapped the pencils. Mechanical pencils were shit for drawing, but they would do.

"Corner store on Ninth," Jace said. "You'd better have ordered me the pancakes, Iz."

"Of course I did. And that's got to be twenty blocks away."

Jace raised an eyebrow, looking smug. "Not everyone can enjoy my level of athletic prowess." He turned to me. "Will that work, Red? I'll take you to the art store tomorrow."

Once the pencil was in my hand, I found I could focus on other people again. I set it down against the graph paper notebook and nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

Then my pencil was flying across the paper as if I needed to make up for lost time, shaping the unusual hook of the Downworlder's nose before capturing the black eyes. I'd only seen the man in profile and straight on, but I could rotate his face mentally to capture him at a three-quarters angle.

"You walked all the way over there just to get her something to draw with?" Izzy's words floated over my head, somewhere outside the world of my art.

"No, I ran all the way over there to get her something to draw with," Jace said patiently.

"Don't you think that was a little dramatic?" Alec asked him.

"She has to draw," Jace said simply. "She can't function if she can't draw when she needs to."

I could feel all their eyes on me. Normally this would have me flinching and trying to curl in on myself, but if I did that I wouldn't be able to capture the play of the man's lip and chin with my rapid strokes.

Alec leaned forward a little across the table to catch a glimpse of the paper. "Still not you," he told Jace.

"That's because she needs to get in practice so that she's prepared to fully capture my radiance," he said, sounding unconcerned.

"Yeah, she really needs the practice," Izzy said sarcastically. "Face it Jace, she just doesn't think you're that pretty."

I bit my lip and looked down, hoping nobody saw my blush. Jace seemed unfazed, but the conversation was cut off when the waitress set down our plates.

I frowned down at my drawing. It was mostly complete and was decent for a quick sketch with shitty pencils on shitty graph paper. More importantly, I felt much better. I set aside the notebook with only a little regret and began eating the pancakes that were set in front of me.

The meal was delicious, and afterward Izzy announced that we had been seen by enough people to warrant our dressing up. I didn't say much as the plastic bag swung from my hands as we walked back to the Institute, but I felt an odd sense of peace. I usually only felt it with Simon or my mother, and I hadn't expected to feel so calm surrounded by three rowdy teenagers - well, two rowdy teenagers and the much calmer Alec.

It wasn't until I turned down my hallway in the Institute that I realized that I had been following Jace without thinking about it and had already passed my door. Isabelle and Alec had already bidden us goodnight and had returned to their own rooms.

I glanced up at Jace in time to see his amused expression as he turned around to face me. "Did you want to draw me while I'm asleep?" he asked. "I have it on good authority that I look like an angel."

"Sorry," I said, flushing. I wanted to turn around and run away, but I fought down the urge with difficulty.

He laughed. "Just say the word, Red."

I ducked my head and turned to retreat to my room, but I turned back for just an instant. "Jace." He looked at me curiously. "Thanks for the drawing stuff. Really."

He smiled. "Anytime, Red. I'll take you shopping tomorrow. Come find me, or if you sleep too late I'll carry you out of bed myself."

My eyes widened and involuntarily met his, and he laughed. I loved it when he laughed like that, so free and without pretense.

"Goodnight, Red," he called in a singsong voice. I hurried into my room before he could make me blush again. I sat down in my bed and pulled out my proper sketchpad and pencils.

I drew late into the night, until I couldn't stay away and could fall asleep immediately without thoughts of Jace Wayland filling my head.

The plan worked, but I couldn't prevent my dreams from being full of him.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you for all the lovely reviews and comments! For sophiecampbellbower, I agree, I'm making Alec nicer than he was in the beginning of the books. I definitely did tone down his pissiness a little, because I thought that level of vitriol was annoying to read in the books. However, there are also two mitigating factors here: one, Jace, Izzy, and Alec were legitimately outnumbered in the first chapter and might not have all made it out alive. You might have noticed that neither Izzy nor Jace really acknowledged that fact just because of their reckless personalities, but Alec is much more pragmatic and definitely knows that Clary may have saved his life. Second, Clary doesn't stand up for herself much (yet!) with anyone, and especially not with Alec because she finds him intimidating, and Alec is not enough of a jerk to try to walk all over her or hurt her feelings.

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIX**

I awoke to the sound of my phone buzzing and knew immediately who it would be. Crap.

"Fray?" Simon said sternly when I picked up. "Did you forget to do something yesterday?"

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes. "Sorry, Simon," I said meekly. "I'm really sorry."

"You know how I worry about you, Clary," he said. "Even with, or especially with, your new friends, or protectors, or whatever you want to call them."

I grimaced. Simon was excellent at guilt trips. He claimed it was inherited from his Jewish mother. "I'll come eat lunch with you," I offered. "Would that be okay?"

I could hear the smile in his voice. "Of course. I'll be in the outdoor seating area. Noon?"

"I'll be there," I said, relieved that I had been forgiven. "See you then."

We hung up, and I realized I was going to have to make Jace let me go to Simon's school.

I picked up my sketchpad and pencils and went in search of something interesting to draw until we needed to leave. After grabbing a quick breakfast of cereal I found my way to the training room again. Jace was sitting on one of the benches by himself, drinking from a water bottle. He was sweaty, and his white shirt clung to the hard lines of his body. I averted my eyes.

"Look at you, getting up before nine," he said as I came in. "That's like dawn by your standards."

"Simon woke me up," I told him, settling down on the floor next to the bench and setting the sketchpad down in my lap. "I forgot to call him yesterday. I told him I'd go eat lunch with him today."

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you now? And who's going to take you on this little field trip?" His tone was amused.

I scowled. "Isabelle," I said immediately, and was rewarded by the faint look of surprise on his face before he narrowed his eyes at me.

"She'd have to spend the whole time fighting off your friend's advances," he said matter-of-factly. "She wouldn't be able to focus on protecting you."

"How do you know she's even Simon's type?" I asked him curiously. I knew just from being Simon's best friend that guys didn't find all the same girls attractive.

Jace grinned. "Isabelle is most guys' type."

I couldn't argue with that. I wondered if he'd ever dated her. A pang of something unpleasant twinged through me. I didn't immediately recognize it, because I'd never felt anything like it before, but then I registered what it was. Jealousy.

I had no reason, no right, to be jealous of Isabelle. Jace wasn't mine. He probably only talked to me because he felt bad for me and all my weird hangups.

He was looking at me like he could see what was going on inside my head. "Even if she wasn't like a sister to me, she still wouldn't be my type," he said, as if he could read my mind. "Brunettes aren't really my thing."

I thought of the blonde waitress who had flirted with him so extravagantly. "Oh," I said quietly, fidgeting with the pencil in my hand.

His lips quirked as if he was enjoying his own private joke. "Come on, Red, draw me in all my glistening glory and I'll take you to the store _and_ to your little mundane's school. Deal?"

Before I could say anything in response, he stood up and pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, leaving him naked from the waist up. I dropped my pencil as my eyes traveled of their own accord down his glistening, toned chest, his abs, the rise of his hips over his pants, and then back up his forearms, his biceps, his shoulders.

I ducked my head and let my hair fall into my face when I realized how long and obvious I'd been about staring. I was wearing my hair down again, and I refused to consider why.

He laughed. "Draw, Red. I know you won't be able to do me justice, but do your best."

He turned back to the punching bag, and when I was certain my blush had faded, I pushed my hair behind my ears and set my pencil to the paper.

Capturing the sense of sweat over both hard and moving muscles was difficult to do with just black pencils, and I quickly became absorbed in my work. Jace threw his whole body into each punch, making the muscles in his shoulders and back grow taut and release each time. I tried to decide which part of the motion I wanted to capture.

Just as he hit the punching bag, I decided. The moment his knuckles began to graze the leather. The pose hinted at what would happen next, at how far back the bag would be thrown, without forcing the impression upon the viewer.

I felt his presence and saw his shadow over me I didn't know how long later. He was breathing heavily as he plopped down on the mat next to me. He held out his hand imperiously, and I finished a final stroke and then handed the sketchpad over.

He pursed his lips, glancing from me back to the drawing. I felt self-conscious. Maybe I'd done a worse job than I'd thought. Conveying motion was always more tricky than capturing still figures, and capturing the shifting light across his defined muscles and sweaty back was difficult.

"Incredible," he murmured, handing the sketchpad next to me. I felt a rush of pleasure at the compliment. "And so is the drawing," he added with a smile, and then he was rising up fluidly and walking to the door.

"Meet me in ten," he called out over his shoulder, as if he hadn't just said something that had sent my heart racing into overdrive.

I stared down at my drawing with shaking fingers. All I could think about was when I'd get to draw him again, if I could make that same secretive, breathtaking smile cross his face again.

* * *

Jace's hair was still partially wet from the shower, laying against his forehead in light brown curls that I knew would lighten into golden blond once they'd dried. He was wearing yet another black t-shirt and dark blue jeans. I wondered how many black shirts were in his closet. I could only tell them apart through their different degrees of fading from washing.

"So, art store, then a mundane high school?" he asked. "You do like to keep my days exciting."

"Whatever, you'd just spend all day working out and hitting on girls without me," I said without thinking, shocked at the natural teasing tone that came out of my mouth.

"That's not true," he protested immediately. "Sometimes I give myself positive affirmations in the mirror. And I do _not_ hit on girls," he added. "They hit on me." He glanced at me. "Mostly."

I rolled my eyes, amazed at how comfortable I felt doing that in front of him. Usually only Simon or my mom ever saw this side of me. "I'd rather get my old paints from school," I told him. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you don't expect me to try to use them myself."

"What," I said in mock horror. "Something you're not amazing at?"

He scowled at me. "The modern Shadowhunter has no need of girly paintbrushes or anything as frivolous as smearing paint on a canvas."

"Meaning you have no artistic talent."

To my surprise, he grinned. "Pretty much. But tell anyone and I'll have to kill you."

I smiled as I followed him out the hall and toward the elevator.

We took the subway to Parsons. Fortunately it wasn't packed this late in the morning, and Jace led us to seat in the back corner of the car. I knew he was doing it so that it minimized the chance that I would have to touch anyone, and I was grateful for it.

The storage room in my building at the university was thankfully empty when Jace and I got there. He marked both of us with an Invisibility rune once we found an empty hallway, but I still couldn't move stuff around the room without anyone who walked into the room freaking out.

I wandered over to my cubby and pulled out my paints and palette. I still had an old plastic shopping bag in there from the last purchase I'd made, and I dropped my paints into it. They were my favorite brand and were a comfort to see, as silly as that sounded. I felt so adrift with everything in my house gone, and it was nice to have some reminder that survived of the life I had led.

Jace wandered over to the vertical storage racks where we stored our canvases that we hadn't stretched on frames. There were half a dozen of mine in there.

Before I could protest, he found the slot with my name on it and pulled them out. My most recent one was on top. It was one I'd done of a couple I'd seen a few weeks back in Central Park, the woman leaning half over the man as they both lay sprawled out on the grass. The New York skyline played across their skin like tattoos and then extended to the edge of the canvas. I was trying to get away from painting purely photorealistic faces and figures.

"And I thought you were good at _drawing_ ," Jace said, scrutinizing it.

I walked forward, all the painting's flaws already on the tip of my tongue to point them out to him, but for some reason I stopped. He was looking at me almost in awe, and I didn't know what to make of his expression.

"It's not-" I started. "I'm not-"

"Yeah, you are," he said, like he knew what I'd been going to say. _It_ _'s not that good, I'm not that good_.

He pulled out a stack of blank canvas and rolled them up and held them under his arm. "Are you ready to go?"

I looked longingly at the easel. We couldn't carry it with us, and it wasn't mine like the paint and canvases were, so I didn't want to steal it.

"I'll get you one," Jace said, as if he could read my mind. "We've got enough empty rooms at the Institute for one to be an art studio for you."

I smiled at the thought. It had been the one thing I'd been missing from living at the Institute, apart from my mom. Having my own place to paint would make it... home.

"In fact, keep smiling like that and I'll get you whatever you want, Red," Jace said, and there was nothing joking in his voice.

I tugged my hair so it fell over my cheeks, but Jace could tell that I was blushing anyway, and he chuckled as he followed me out into the streets again.

We took the subway again to Simon's high school, and when we were about a block's walk from it, Jace pulled me into a back alley and raised his stele to his skin. "I'm just going to observe," he told me. "I want you to spend time with your friend."

"You just want to eavesdrop," I said as the re-applied glamour rune settled into his skin, though of course I could still see him.

He grinned. "Why can't both be true?" He handed me the bag that he'd been carrying for me and the roll of canvases. "Here, I can't hold this close enough to prevent mundanes from seeing flashes of mysteriously floating art supplies."

I took them from him, and we continued the last block. There was a small outdoor seating area at Simon's school, with picnic tables scattered amongst the trees. Simon always sat at the farthest outdoor table when I came to see him, in the most secluded part of the yard.

I stopped when I could see him, making sure there wasn't a big crowd I would have to talk to. Luckily, it was just Eric sitting next to Simon, and the yard wasn't swarming with students.

"You good?" Jace asked, stopping beside me.

"Yeah," I said, taking a deep breath and stepping forward. There was a four foot or so brick wall that separated the yard from the street, and I climbed over it as gracefully as I could manage, which wasn't very. I could hear Jace laughing from behind me.

I dropped down on the other side, and Simon's eyes lit on me.

"Clary!" He stood up and walked over to me, his eyes concerned in the way he always got when he was worried about me. He wrapped his arms around me briefly and then stepped back. "Don't ever not call me again."

I smiled. "I know, I won't. I'm sorry."

He led me back to the picnic table. "Hi, Eric," I said quietly as I sat down next to Simon. Jace took a seat on the bench on my other side.

"Oh, hey, Clary," Eric said, taking another bite of his sandwich. I'd met Simon's friend and bandmate on and off over the years, and he usually did a pretty good job of treating me like I was normal.

"I'm surprised your boyfriend let you come here alone," Simon said mildly.

I blushed. "He is _not_ my boyfriend." I could hear Jace chuckling beside me. "And I'm not alone. He's... around."

Simon raised his eyebrows. "Watching over you with his secret surveillance powers?"

I tried not to glance over at Jace. "Something like that." I turned to Simon. "Tell me about the band."

I knew Simon realized I was changing the subject, but he let it be changed. "We've got a gig lined up at the coffee shop next Saturday," he told me, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

I smiled. "That's great!" I had never gone to one of his shows. They were usually in small venues, which meant tight-packed crowds, and they didn't have any non-exposed place to sit if I didn't want to touch anyone. I could sit behind the band, but then everyone would be wondering who the weird girl was.

I experienced a twinge of self-loathing for the fact that I couldn't even attend my best friend's show. He'd done so much for me, and I would never be able to repay him. I always tried to make it up to him by coming to all the practice sessions I could. I knew Eric and the other members in the band well enough to not panic if they looked at me, and I sat on the old beat-up couch across from them to have plenty of space.

Eric had joined in the discussion of the band's next gig, and I let their words flow over me, potential band names and future venues and song lyrics. This was familiar. It was a piece of my old life. It had once been one-half of my life, with my mother and Luke being the other half.

It felt too small all of the sudden. I still wanted Simon with me, but he wasn't enough by himself anymore.

I realized that even if I could, I wouldn't run away from being a Shadowhunter now. My world had expanded, and I wasn't going to curl up in the tiny part of the mundane corner of it. I was a Shadowhunter. I wasn't sure if Magnus loosening my memories had anything to do with it, but I knew what I was now and where I belonged.

The bell rang, and Simon and Eric rose. "See ya, Clary," Eric said, and Simon leaned over to give me another quick hug. "No more radio silence," he instructed me.

I nodded solemnly, and he smiled. "Love you, Fray."

"Love you, too," I said, smiling. He gave me a mock salute and turned to go, his brown paper lunch bag in his hand.

Jace was waiting for me when I turned back around, and he hopped gracefully four feet in the air to the top of the wall and smiled down at me angelically. I pursed my lips and pulled myself up behind him, refusing to ask for help.

"Shut up," I muttered when I finally landed on my feet on the other side. He took the art supplies from me again.

"Didn't say a word, Red," he said cheerfully as we began walking back to the subway. "I was too busy admiring your... grace. I may need to put an Agility rune on you. _Multiple_ Agility runes."

"You can't double up on them like that, can you?" I asked in surprise.

"No." He glanced at me, his lips curving upward. "But with you it would probably be worth a try."

I reached out to hit him on the shoulder before I thought about it, and he stiffened in surprise before relaxing and turning back to me with that insufferable smile back in place.

That was the first time I'd ever reached out and touched him just because I'd wanted to. I had felt the warmth of his skin through his t-shirt.

"Sorry," I said, staring at the ground in front of me, mortified. My hand was tingling, and it wasn't from the force of the slap.

He laughed, and the tension in my shoulders faded. "I told you you'd eventually want to molest me."

"I didn't molest you!" I protested. "I _hit_ you."

"Ah, but they say physical abuse is the first step on the journey to passion," he assured me. "And here we are today, setting down on that infamous road."

"No one says that!" I said, laughing despite myself. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye to see him looking pleased, and I dropped my eyes just in time to avoid eye contact.

"A laugh two days in a row," he mused. "I think I may have set a record."

"Probably," I admitted, and I couldn't stop from smiling even though I could actually feel the smug superiority radiating off of him.

"You'll find I'm _very_ competitive," he said. "I expect to have you in hysterics by the time the week is out."

I couldn't help it. I laughed again.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading and reviewing!_


	7. Chapter 7

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Sorry for the delay! This chapter required a bit of re-working to fit into the storyline as I have it now. The good news is the next couple of chapters are almost finished, so they should be up relatively soon.

Thank you as always for all the sweet comments! Yes, Jace and Clary will continue to develop at this pace. I'm really treating this fic like how a romantic relationship would develop in a novel, and obviously there's a lot more plot going on in this fic than just a simple romance, unlike in many fanfics. Think of how the first book was, they weren't even really flirting until like halfway through. But I promise Jace and Clary WILL get together and have many romantic encounters (more than in the book!). ;) And yes, there will be the typical Malec and Sizzy in this. As for Luke and Jonathan, you'll see the answer to Luke in this chapter. No comment on Jonathan. :)

Also, maybe I should have expected this, but I am surprised by the number of Jace POV requests I've gotten. I'm sort of reluctant to do that because I don't have any future scenes in mind right now that could be told in Jace's POV instead of Clary's, so I would have to repeat a scene that's already happened in Clary's POV and do it in Jace's as well. It's not that I mind writing them, but I just don't love re-reading scenes like that in other people's fics (and again, you'll notice it's not something that happens in published novels), but it's possible that I'm alone in that opinion. If you guys really are interested in this, please leave a review and let me know, and I'll see what I can do (and if there are specific scenes you have in mind, let me know that as well). I will also try to keep in mind any future scenes that could be told from Jace's POV instead.

* * *

 **CHAPTER SEVEN**

I spent most of the afternoon in one of the downstairs living rooms (or was it a parlor?). I had laid out multiple trash bags on the floor to protect it from paint splatters until I found a drop cloth. I was painting kneeling over the canvas since I didn't have an easel, which was an awkward position but still better than not being able to paint at all.

My hair was messily pulled back to keep it from falling in my face as I knelt, and I knew I probably had at least a couple of paint smudges on my cheeks from pushing stray strands out of my face.

I didn't care. I was painting.

The shadows stretched out long in front of me as the afternoon dragged on, and by the time I finally sat back on my knees, my back aching, I had three completed canvases. One was Simon and Eric in their respective ironic t-shirts as I had seen them today, trees beginning to flower behind them. Another was Alec and Izzy, back to back in a pose straight out of my imagination, with Alec holding his bow and Izzy her whip, both looking like the deadly warriors they were. The third was the angel Raziel that Hodge had described to me on my first day at the Institute, rising out of a lake with the Mortal Cup in one hand and a sword in another. If angels really existed I knew I probably wasn't doing this one any justice, but I thought it was a decent first attempt for a mere mortal.

I heard footsteps on the hardwood floor coming up behind me, and I immediately knew it was Jace. When had it gotten so that I recognized how he walked? He stopped next to me, and I saw, to my amusement, that he was actually barefoot. I had started to think he slept and bathed in his sneakers or combat boots.

Without a word he reached behind my head, and I felt him tugging out my hair tie until it was free, leaving my hair to fall in my face again.

"It gets in my way," I protested, feeling a thrill at his touch on me, even if it was just my hair and he was careful not to come into contact with my skin.

"You were done, anyway," he said unapologetically. He slid the hair tie onto his wrist, presumably so that I couldn't take it from him and pull my hair back again. "Come on, we're making plans."

"'We'?" I asked, but I rose and followed him from the room.

"Yes, 'we'. In the living room."

I glanced behind me at the sofas and coffee table. "I thought I _was_ in the living room."

"No. This is the formal parlor."

I sighed as I stepped into a room that looked almost exactly identical to the one I had left, except it had Izzy and Alec sitting on its two sofas. Stupid massive Institute.

I took a seat a few inches away from Izzy on the larger sofa, and Jace immediately sat down on my other side. He had yet to break Simon's rule about touching me, but he left only a couple inches between us, and I could feel the warmth from his body beside me.

"She was painting," Jace told the Lightwoods. "By the way," he added casually, "have you decided when you're going to paint me in the nude yet?"

Without my conscious will, my eyes snapped to his golden ones in shock, and I felt goosebumps spread out across my arms as I simultaneously broke out into a blush I could feel go all the way down my neck.

"And... we have eye contact," Jace said, looking smug. He looked over at Isabelle, and I dropped my eyes again. "How many times has she looked at _you_ , Izzy?"

"You don't get to count the times it's happened in your dreams, Jace," she said.

I heard a muffled snort of laughter from the other couch. Alec.

Jace ignored both of them as if responding would be beneath him. "Anyway, we need to figure out how to get Magnus to track Clary's mother." He addressed us all in the confident tones of someone who was used to making plans.

"Mom's made it clear that we're pretty much on our own for this," Alec said. "The Clave is too focused on finding the Mortal Cup, and they don't think there's any reason a woman who spent sixteen years living as a mundane would know where it is, even if she was married to Valentine Morgenstern once."

I frowned. Surely that was exactly why she'd been kidnapped. If she didn't have it, she must at least know where it was.

"The Clave is narrow-minded, and I guarantee they just resent someone who walked away from being a Shadowhunter - for whatever reason - and aren't inclined to help her because of that alone," Jace said, mostly to me.

"They're all connected!" I said, but all three made the equivalent of shrugging.

"The point is we're on our own," Alec said. "We're not going to have Magnus's help, at least for free anymore. Since he got your memories back, he's going to think you're even."

Izzy nodded. "I'm not sure the Clave would be willing to pay for the prices he usually charges, and we don't have anything else he wants."

"Yes, we do," Jace said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. We all looked at him. "We have Alec."

"You want to pimp out our brother?" Isabelle asked, sounding like she didn't know whether to be amused or appalled.

"No," Jace said calmly. "I want our brother to go _visit_ Magnus for a little chat, and if somewhere in there he agrees to perform a little spell for us, that will be a happy coincidence."

The room was quiet for a long moment. Alec opened his mouth and closed it again, like he'd forgotten how to speak.

Then Isabelle smiled. "I'll need to dress him," she said, seeming to accept this as a done deal. "I'm not going to let him go over there dressed like a model in a Sears catalog."

" _Iz_ -" Alec protested, seeming to be jolted out of his disbelief.

His sister just shook her head. "I'm not going to take no for an answer. You need to look your best for your little... chat."

"I haven't agreed to this," Alec said helplessly, looking at Jace, and then, surprisingly, me for help.

"If I didn't help Clary with Isabelle, I'm certainly not going to help you," Jace said, not sounding the least bit ashamed. "Take it up with her."

"But I never _win_ against her," Alec said grumpily.

Jace smiled. "Exactly."

* * *

We - or, more accurately, Jace - decided that Alec's visit might as well be tonight, so Izzy dragged him away to do "some serious makeovering", leaving Jace and me alone on the couch.

He stretched his arm over the back of the sofa, still not touching me, but now I could feel his warmth behind my neck, too. I tried not to react too visibly, but I could feel my heart racing from the nearness.

If Jace noticed, he pretended like he didn't. "I liked your paintings," he said. "The one of Izzy and Alec especially. It could be on the cover of a movie for a renegade crime fighting duo."

"You know about movies?" I asked. So many pop culture references seemed to have passed over his head just in the week or so that I'd known him.

"I don't live in a cave, Red," he said, sounding insulted. "Just because we have more important things to focus on, such as saving humans from certain destruction via demons, doesn't mean I _never_ get out. I like movies. Ones with Megan Fox in them, especially."

"I thought you liked blondes," I said without thinking.

I felt him tense beside me, and I was worried I had made him angry, but he was trying to stifle a laugh. "I'm a complex man with correspondingly complex tastes," he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice without having to see it. "And I didn't say that, by the way."

Before I could replay our previous conversation in my head to try to figure out whether I was remembering it wrong, my phone rang.

I arched my back to pull it out of my back pocket, and my neck grazed Jace's arm. I fought down the distracting, rushing feeling the contact brought out and looked down at the screen. Only two people ever called me: my mom and Simon.

And very rarely, Luke, I remembered as I saw his name. I accepted the call.

"Clary?" he said. He sounded frazzled. "Are you okay? I just got back from the lake house and your house is blocked off."

"I'm fine, Luke." I glanced over at Jace for help. I didn't know if Luke had ever known what my mom was, or about the supernatural world at all.

He shook his head, and I knew he meant not to tell Luke anything. "I'm safe," I said into the phone, "but my mom's missing. They think... someone kidnapped her."

Luke was silent for a moment. "Are you at the Institute?" he asked.

I almost dropped the phone. Had everyone known but me?

Jace took the phone from me. "What do you know about the Institute?" he asked without preamble. He set the phone to speaker mode so that I could clearly hear Luke's response.

"I've never been to New York's, but I've been to others. It's a safe haven for Shadowhunters." He didn't seem surprised to hear someone else talking to him now. "If you're protecting Clary, I'm going to assume you aren't on Valentine's side."

"How do you know about Valentine?" Jace asked, his eyes narrowing.

I could hear Luke sigh on the other end. "He was my _parabatai_ ," he said finally. This time Jace looked like he might drop the phone.

"Then you _knew_!" I said, knowing Luke would hear me. "You knew who my mom was - _is -_ and you knew what I was. And you never said anything! I would have _died_ the first time I went back to my house if Jace hadn't been with me to kill the demons."

"I begged Jocelyn for years to tell you, Clary." Luke sounded tired. "But it wasn't my place to go behind her back."

"That's not good enough," I said, aware that I sounded like a sulking child.

"I know." He sounded even more tired. "Can we meet tomorrow, Clary? I just want to see you, to know you're alright. And if Maryse will see me, I can tell her what I know. I want to find your mother just as much as you do."

Hearing him casually toss in Maryse's name like that made the whole experience more surreal. "Can't you just come here?"

He laughed, but he didn't sound amused. "I assure you that Maryse and Robert won't want me in there. Do you want to meet at the park near the Institute tomorrow morning? Eleven?"

I looked at Jace, who had been silent, watching me speak to the man who was almost my father.

"That's fine," Jace said, loudly enough that Luke would be able to hear him. "But she won't be alone."

"No, I wouldn't expect her to be. I'm glad of it."

We said our goodbyes, and as I ended the call, I looked over at Jace worriedly, almost able to meet his eyes. "Do you think Luke's working for Valentine?" I asked him.

"No," he said slowly. "Though as far as I know, Valentine never had a _parabatai_. I've certainly never heard of him, if he did. But that's an odd lie, when it's so easy to verify."

"Should we tell Maryse?" I asked him. "Or Hodge?"

He frowned and shook his head. "Maryse and Robert left for Idris while we were out this morning. They should be back in a couple days. Hodge probably wouldn't let us go, in case Luke is lying and just wants you to meet him for some reason."

"Luke would never hurt me," I said. That was one of the few remaining things in my life I felt confident about. "He's known me practically since I was a baby."

I had a sudden recollection of Luke holding my hand as we walked through a park when I was about seven. It was twilight, and he was obviously taking me home from something. Tiny pixies were suddenly swirling in the air around us, lit from within like fireflies, and I laughed and reached out to try to catch one, already planning on drawing them. Luke had picked me up and put me on his back, and the fun of the piggyback ride had distracted me from the strange creatures as he'd hurried us out of the park.

Jace sighed. "I know you believe that. But how much of your life has already been turned upside down in the last week?"

I grimaced. He was right.

"We'll be with you," he reassured me. "And as long as he comes alone, you'll be able to talk to him."

I sighed and knew it was the best I was going to get. I wondered what else in my life was going to get shaken up. Maybe Madame Dorothea next door was my long-lost faerie aunt or something.

I was jolted out of my thoughts as I heard the clacking of footsteps coming down the front staircase, one a set of brisk heels and another coming more slowly in what sounded like heavy boots.

"Tada!" Isabelle said brightly as she walked into the room, dragging a reluctant-looking Alec by the hand behind her. He stopped in front of Jace and me and glowered at us like he was daring us to look at what we'd put him through.

I'd never realized it, since he usually wore baggy clothes and a perpetual scowl, but in fitted clothes and with nervousness replacing his normal surliness, I saw that Alec was actually quite handsome. I was impressed that Magnus had seen all that I was seeing now in just a glance.

Isabelle had spiked his hair up and out of his face a little, unlike how he usually wore it. His eyes were a flawless dark blue set in pale, perfect skin. I tried to stop my fingers from twitching. I wanted to draw him like he was now, a little more alert, a little less unhappy. Maybe if Jace's plan worked, I could even draw him and Magnus together. I had an odd certainty that if anyone could make him smile, it was Magnus.

"Don't draw me like this," Alec said abruptly, as if he could read my mind.

Surprised, I looked at him, and I actually met his eyes for a moment. "Why not?"

He gestured vaguely at himself. "Because I look stupid."

"You look hot," I said before I could stop myself. I immediately felt three pairs of eyes on me, and I wanted to disappear back into the couch cushions. "I mean, obviously, I get that you're gay, but it's still true," I mumbled.

I was allowed to appreciate beauty, was I not? I could always play the "artist" card if I had to.

To my surprise, a smile actually curled at the corners of his mouth, and he shot a superior look at Jace. "Has she told _you_ you look hot?"

"I'm certain she's just waiting for the right moment," Jace said, sounding supremely bored.

I knew there was no way Jace could be insecure about his looks, but I felt a pang of worry at the same time that I had unintentionally hurt his feelings.

I could tell Alec he was handsome without having to worry about consequences. With Jace, saying it made me vulnerable. It meant that he would naturally think of the way I looked in return, and I didn't want to face how far short I fell of his standards.

"Excellent, we have outside approval," Isabelle said, not sounding bothered by the exchange. "Come on, brother, you have sexy warlocks to... _'chat'_ with."

"Izzy," Alec pleaded, as if he thought he might as well try protesting one more time, without any expectation that it would work. I tilted my head back over the couch to see her gently nudging Alec down the hallway, and I heard the elevator a minute later.

"That's the first time I've ever heard you mention a guy like that," Jace murmured to me once they were out of earshot.

I blushed and let my hair fall in my face. "You aren't going to make me say it about you, are you?" I asked him quietly. "Because I think you know what you look like."

He didn't say anything for a minute. "You're the only person I've ever met who could make me doubt myself," he said finally, and there was an undercurrent of uncertainty I'd never heard before in his voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut. He knew exactly what he was doing, making me feel guilty. This conversation was ridiculous. He didn't need to hear it from me. Every straight girl on the planet had to agree with me about his looks.

Still, I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. "You're the most beautiful guy I've ever seen." And I had seen a lot, had gone out of my way to seek out beautiful faces in crowds, while walking on the street, in stores, so that I could draw or paint them later.

He scooted the tiniest bit closer to me, so that only an inch separated our thighs, and spoke through the long sheet of hair that I was still using to hide behind. "Is 'beautiful' better than 'hot'?" he asked me in a low voice.

I could hear Izzy's heels as she came back down the hall toward us.

I twisted my hands in my lap. "To me, yes."

He leaned even closer to me, so that his breath made my hair stir gently. "Then you're beautiful, too," he said.

Then he was rising to greet Izzy, saying something mocking about Alec, but I could barely pay attention to the words. He and Izzy started toward the kitchen together, and she called out to ask me if I wanted something to eat.

I couldn't eat, though, and not just because of Izzy's "skill" at cooking. My hands were trembling as I shook my head and turned to go back into the parlor where all my paints still were. I needed to do what I always did when I was faced with emotions I couldn't contain. I needed to paint.

And hopefully while I painted, I would be able to gain some control over, or at least an understanding of, the emotions and physical reactions that Jace Wayland so effortlessly brought out in me.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading and reviewing!_


	8. Chapter 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** To sophiecampbellbower: Thank you for your comments! And I totally agree with your thoughts on the annoyance of only having a single Clace kiss in City of Bones before the sibling drama happened. I guess because it's Young Adult, but the books definitely do not have enough actual sexy moments. Don't worry about it in this fic though, I've got your back! ;). Romance is in the air.

You'll also notice that I'm skipping all the Alec sexual identity crisis/drama in this fic. Imagine that he accepts that he's gay and is out to Jace and Izzy (and Clary by extension) but not his parents or anyone else. He has a tiny crush on Jace that he's aware is completely pointless and mostly would like to find a guy who might actually like him back.

* * *

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

I didn't hear Alec come in that night, which meant it had been late, since I had stayed up in my room drawing until past midnight.

When I woke the next morning, it was to knocking, not on my door, but a few doors down. I opened my door to see Isabelle and Jace waiting outside Alec's room.

"It's eight, Alec!" Isabelle said to the door.

"If you were out doing any inappropriate activities at all hours of the night, well, that's your own fault," Jace added in a lecturing tone. "Time to get up and greet the day!"

He glanced over and saw me. His eyes flicked me up and down, and I remembered yet again that I was still wearing clothes that Izzy had lent me.

I had slept in spandex shorts and a tank top that was skintight on her but fit normally on me, though the neckline was loose enough to reveal what little hint of cleavage I had. I had never cared what I wore, and Izzy didn't seem to mind me wearing hers, so I hadn't bothered trying to go shopping yet.

"Please do me a favor and never stop wearing Isabelle's clothes," Jace said. I blushed.

Isabelle glanced over at me upon hearing her name. "Clary! Good, now we're all here to make Alec get his ass out of bed."

"Why are we making Alec get up?" I asked.

"To tell us about his visit to Magnus's, of course!"

"He couldn't tell us in a couple of hours?"

" _Thank_ you, Clary," Alec said, finally opening the door, apparently giving up on hoping his siblings would leave him alone. I thought that probably for the best.

His hair was tousled, he had on a white undershirt and loose sweatpants, and he glared blearily at Isabelle and Jace. "You live to torment me," he accused them.

Isabelle didn't bother arguing with that. "Well?" she demanded. "Will he do it?"

"Yes," Alec said grumpily. "For a price."

"What does he want?" Isabelle asked.

Alec scowled. "A date."

"Oh the horror," Jace said dryly.

I couldn't hold back a giggle, and Jace and Alec both glanced at me. Alec looked betrayed; Jace looked pleased. I remembered his vow to make me laugh.

"Whatever," Alec said. "Will you go away now so I can go back to sleep?"

Jace gave him a winning smile. "Nope. It's time to train."

Alec groaned and slammed the door in his face.

Neither Jace nor Isabelle looked concerned. "Ten minutes!" Jace called out to the closed door. Alec didn't bother to respond.

"Aren't you being a little hard on him?" I asked Jace. "He did do it for me."

"Fine. Half an hour!" he called over his shoulder.

"Very magnanimous," I said.

"I thought so."

I took a detour back to my room to pick up my sketchpad and change and then walked to the training room. Isabelle and Jace were already there sparring, and I took what had become my usual seat on the mats and began to draw.

"Clary's got a new one of you," Jace said as he flipped Isabelle onto her back. "In paint, this time."

She pushed him off and jumped back onto her feet, unfazed. "Awesome. Am I doing something cool in it?"

"You and Alec look like a dynamic crime-fighting duo in it, so I guess it depends on your definition of the word." He caught her fist in one hand, but she used the other to swing at his stomach. He moved out of the way, but she still got a glancing blow in. She looked pleased.

Alec joined them not long later, looking only slightly more alert, but he fell into the rhythm of sparring with Jace easily enough. Isabelle wandered away from them to pull herself up on a set of raised parallel bars.

They all looked so focused, so purposeful. I knew they weren't doing this for _me_ , exactly, that they were doing it to fight a threat that humans didn't even know existed. But they'd unknowingly been protecting me during the long years of my life when I hadn't known about the supernatural world.

And I felt like I was so passive in this search for my mother. Finding her really only mattered to me, but I was doing the least to help out of all of them.

I wanted to do something helpful, something for someone else, for once in my life.

"I want to fight," I said abruptly, setting down my sketchpad beside me. Isabelle dropped to the floor gracefully, and Alec and Jace turned to look at me in surprise.

"Forget it, that was stupid," I said weakly, feeling embarrassed under their gazes. "I just thought..."

"It isn't stupid," Jace said, watching me with an inscrutable expression as he walked over to me. "I just didn't think it was something you'd be interested in."

"I am," I said, more firmly. "If I can."

Jace looked over at Izzy, who nodded, and Alec, who shrugged.

He turned back to me. "I'm not letting you get close to the fight," he told me. "You need years of training for that." He examined me thoughtfully, and I tried not to fidget. "But I think you'd be good at ranged weapons, since you apparently have perfect shot, at least under duress. Plus that way you can stay back so you're not touching anything."

"Why can't I just get another gun?" I asked.

Now there was a question I never thought I'd ask.

"Runes prevent gunpowder from exploding," Jace said. "No one knows why. Now that you've been Marked, you'll never be able to shoot one again."

Well, that was disappointing.

"Alec will help you. He's the long-range expert."

I couldn't help myself. "Are you admitting you're _not_ the expert at something?"

He laughed. "I'm excellent at everything I do, Red. I just figured it would be charitable to give Alec something to do."

Alec rolled his eyes. "I can show her the bow, but I doubt she's strong enough to draw it consistently." he said. He didn't say it like he was trying to insult me, and I figured he was probably right.

"I'm thinking throwing knives or shuriken, to start," Jace said. "She can work up to the bow, if she wants."

Alec nodded.

"Ooh, I love shuriken!" Isabelle said, coming up to us. "I think they look badass."

Jace gestured me over to the weapons chests and pulled one of them open. It held a huge pile of metal disks with multiple sharply pointed ends. "Shuriken," he said. "Throwing stars. I'll get you special gloves so you don't cut yourself on them." I nodded, and he opened another chest. "And throwing knives." He picked one up to show me. It was flat on both ends and didn't have a true handle, just an unforgiving hard metal grip on one end and a thick point on the other.

He handed a few knives to me and looked at Alec, who nodded toward the far end of the room, where there were several bullseye targets set up. "Come here," Alec said, and I followed him.

He demonstrated the arm movement, the graceful, purposeful motion that used my whole body for momentum, not just my arm or fingers. Jace had returned to the punching bag, but I could feel his eyes on me from time to time.

After several minutes Alec finally let me hold one of the knives, showing me where to grip it. He let his fingers hover over mine, and I nodded to let him touch me, appreciating that he had asked. I could tell that holding the handle would give me blisters until I built up calluses. The thought of my body changing as I learned how to fight pleased me.

"Thanks, by the way," I told Alec in a low voice. "For talking to Magnus. I know you're probably doing it for Jace's sake, but thank you all the same."

"I wanted to hate you," he said just as quietly, repositioning my fingers around the ridged end of the knife. "But you're hard to hate for long. And if you hadn't needed my help I wouldn't have known what it felt like to meet someone who might actually..." He broke off, blushing. "Anyway, it's okay. I'll help you, and it has nothing to do with Jace."

I smiled, and he released my hand and stepped back. "Okay, try it."

I visualized the arm movement he had shown me and then eyed the target. Something about holding the knife felt natural, and just like when I picked up the gun, I had the strangest confidence that I could do this.

My arm released, and a second later I blinked at where the blade had landed, less than an inch to the left of bull's eye, sinking deep into the wood point first.

I turned around to see all three of them staring at me. Again.

"Should I credit your excellent teaching skills?" Jace asked his _parabatai_.

"Yes," Alec said dryly. "I have a real gift." I smiled.

"Come on, Red, let's see how many you can do." Jace grabbed another dozen or so knives from the chest and dropped them on the floor nearby, far enough that I wouldn't trip on them as I threw, and Alec returned to one of the punching bags.

Some of them clanged to the ground when I threw them, but only because they were hitting knives I had already sunk into the target. My fourth shot was a perfect bullseye, and none landed outside the innermost ring - until Jace was suddenly behind me, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "We need to go soon."

My whole body shivered, and that knife only landed in the second ring. I scowled up at him, making eye contact for a half-second to ensure my message was delivered. He stepped backward with a grin, his hands up and his eyes dancing. "Hey, you'll have to learn to deal with distractions in a real fight."

"Not like that!" I retorted. "Not from _you_!"

He laughed and walked to the target to pick up the knives that had fallen to the floor, and I stalked over and pulled out the ones that were embedded in the wood. My arm and shoulders were already aching. I was going to be sore tomorrow.

"Seriously, though," he said as he watched me drop the remaining knives in the chest. "You were amazing."

I blushed, and he gave me a satisfied smile. Stupid Shadowhunter.

* * *

An hour later, Jace, Izzy, Alec and I were stepping outside the Institute into a cool spring day. Jace and I fell into step behind his siblings, and he pulled a dagger out of his jacket and handed it to me. It shone in the sunlight and had a red jewel in its handle.

"It's not meant for throwing," he said, "though I'm sure you could manage it. I wanted you to have something as a last resort in case something – or someone – attacks you before you can throw something at it."

He handed it to me, and I thought our fingers were going to touch until he shifted them at the last second, leaving me staring down at the blade. It felt solid in my hands, balanced and deadly. "Thank you," I said, staring down at it. There was something about owning a weapon, not just using the ones in the training room, that made my situation more real to me. Now I was the type of person who needed weapons, who was prepared to fight.

"I hope you never have to use it," Jace said seriously. "You have no idea how much–" His head jerked up, and I followed his gaze.

Luke was walking toward us, looking like he was intentionally trying to appear casual and non-threatening. His shoulders were slumped, and his hair looked like he had been running his hands through it.

"I hope that's your friend," Jace said warily, putting his hand on his weapons belt. We were glamored, but I wasn't surprised that Luke could see us. Whatever he was, he was somehow connected to the Shadow world.

I couldn't stop myself from hurrying toward him, though Izzy and Alec made it to him first. They stopped a few feet in front of him and regarded him warily as I hurried past them.

Luke smiled tiredly when he saw me, but it looked genuine. "Clary," he said. He carefully reached out and squeezed my shoulder for just a second. For Luke, that was as affectionate as a hug between other people. "I was so worried." He looked at the runes visible on my arms. "I see you've discovered what you are."

"Yeah," I said uncomfortably, wondering how much different I looked to him after just a week. I still had Izzy's clothes on, all black, unlike the baggy band t-shirts I'd always stolen from Simon and my own faded, worn jeans. My hair was down, since I'd given up on trying to keep it tied back with Jace around, and my arms and collarbones, which were visible under my short-sleeved shirt, were marked with runes. I already had some scars from faded ones.

Jace had stepped up beside me. "You said you had a parabatai, but you're unmarked," he said suspiciously.

Luke sighed. "Yes, that's what happens when you turn into a werewolf."

I felt the three behind me all stiffen. I had heard references to werewolves over the past week, but I had never thought...

"How long?" I demanded.

"Ever since you've known me," Luke told me, watching me warily, like he was afraid I was going to start screaming. "Before you were born. Valentine left me to die after I transformed the first time."

"You've put her at risk, then," Jace said, his hand flexing toward his weapons belt. "Since she was a kid. Werewolves can't always control themselves, especially around the full moon," he said to me.

Luke's eyes flashed, and I almost thought I saw yellow in them for an instant.

A memory came to me suddenly, of a girl who must have been a faerie, with razor sharp teeth in her smile and dull red eyes, coming up to me while I'd been swinging with Simon at the park when we were about ten. Luke had run toward us from his seat on the park bench, and his eyes had been shining discs of yellow as he'd said something to the faerie too low for me to hear.

The girl's mouth had fallen open and she'd sprinted away, her scarlet eyes fearful, without a backward glance. The entire time Simon had been chattering to me happily as if he hadn't seen the girl.

I blinked and came back to myself. The feeling of the memory rushing over me and leaving me just as suddenly was disorienting, but it just reinforced my belief that Luke genuinely cared about me and always had.

"–know my limits," Luke was saying. "Clary is as good as my own daughter to me. Every time I thought there was the slightest risk, I stayed far from her and Jocelyn."

He glanced around, as if noticing Alec and Izzy for the first time. "You must be Lightwoods," he said. They nodded. "Twins?"

Alec looked outraged. "I'm almost two years older!"

"And I'm at least two years more mature than you," Isabelle said smugly.

Luke turned back to Jace. "I'm not sure who you are, though I believe we spoke on the phone." He looked at Jace consideringly. "You do look familiar."

Jace looked like he was considering whether or not to answer. "Jace Wayland," he said finally.

"Michael Wayland's son?" Luke asked. Jace nodded stiffly. "I knew him. He tried to leave Valentine, to leave the Circle, around the time when I did." He looked hesitant. "Is he..."

Jace grimaced. "If you're going to say 'dead', then yes. Seven years ago."

"I'm sorry," Luke said, and he sounded sincere. "He was a good man."

"Yeah, well, I have Valentine to thank for that."

"There is considerable blame, including many deaths, that can be placed at Valentine's feet," Luke said. "We're on the same side, Jace. I want to protect Clary and stop Valentine just as much as you do." He flicked another curious look at Jace, like he was trying to decipher something.

Then he turned back at me. "Clary, you should know that your mother tried to leave the Circle once she realized what Valentine's true objectives were. Don't judge her too harshly for falling for his lies. We all did. You have no idea how manipulative, how persuasive Valentine can be unless you've experienced it for yourself."

"How could she have married him in the first place?" I burst out. "He didn't turn into an evil person overnight. Why didn't she just leave him?"

Luke looked conflicted, clearly deciding how to respond. "Clary," he began finally, like he was going to tell me something he knew I wouldn't like. "Your mother and Valentine–"

Suddenly we weren't alone on the street anymore. Two middle-aged men with sneers on their faces were moving toward us, and they were surrounded by half a dozen lizardlike demons with multiple rows of pointed shark-like teeth and barbed tails.

"Lucian," the first man hissed, the demons whirling around him in a tight diameter as if they were on invisible leashes waiting to be released, "We've been waiting for you to make a mistake. You were protected by your pack of mutts at the station. Leaving them was stupid."

To my surprise, the other one turned to regard me with narrowed eyes. "And the girl," he said with a smirk. "Clarissa. Valentine will be delighted to see you."

"Blackwell, Pangborn," Luke said mildly, drawing their attention back to him before I could do much more than blink in confusion. "Still Valentine's lackeys, I see."

The second man's face turned red in rage, and suddenly he wasn't facing Luke anymore, but an enormous wolf, its teeth bared.

The wolf — Luke, I reminded myself — growled before leaping through the air toward the man. Whatever the man had been using to control the demons was released, and the demons were suddenly scuttling toward us.

It was rapidly turning into chaos, and I felt Jace's hand tight on my upper arm, pulling me backward. I couldn't bring myself to look away, wide-eyed and horrified at what I was seeing. The men were going to hurt Luke.

Except Alec and Isabelle were already there beside him, Isabelle snapping her whip around one of the men's ankles and yanking ferociously until he was being dragged face-first across the street. Alec had his bow out and was shooting the demons with perfect aim, but the demons changed their speeds rapidly, meaning half his shots sailed through suddenly open air.

I barely registered the feeling of being touched as Jace pushed me back against the wall of a building. He reached into my jacket and pulled out the dagger he had just given me, wrapping my fingers around it and pulling my arm up so that I was holding the weapon in front of my chest. "Not unless you have to," he said. I nodded numbly.

Pulling out a seraph blade, he returned to the swarming mass of demons. He seemed to be leaving Isabelle and Luke to handle the men. I heard a high-pitched, canine yowl a split second later, and my heart raced. Luke.

But even if I wanted to go to Luke against Jace's orders, I couldn't make myself move. I was frozen against the wall, my fear overwhelming me.

Jace made an impossible leap and crouched in front of the wolf's crumpled form, turning smoothly to skewer one of the demons completely.

There was a flash of light, and suddenly a doorway blazed into existence in the middle of the street. I knew it must be a Portal, and it flared open less than three feet away from the men.

The first man had been knocked unconscious from where he had hit the ground when Izzy had ensnared him with her whip, and the second man leapt sideways as if he had been expecting to see the portal in that exact location. Before Izzy could catch him with her whip, the man had grabbed his companion by the legs and thrown himself through the portal, dragging his companion along the ground behind him. A split second later, the doorway flickered and was gone.

Izzy hissed in frustration, but she turned with Alec to help Jace finish off the demons. There were half a dozen swarming around, but with the three Shadowhunters they would clearly be able to handle them. As soon as Alec dispatched the last one in a hiss of black smoke, I sprinted forward to the wolf's prone figure.

"Luke!" I dropped my dagger from loose fingers as I knelt beside the wolf on the grass. He was breathing shallowly, blood pouring from his abdomen.

"Jace," I gasped, looking around for him. "Heal him, please!"

"I can't," Jace said somberly, staring down at Luke's crumpled form. "They used silver weapons, and he can't take runes anymore. His pack will know how to take care of him." He turned to the Lightwoods. "Can the two of you take him? I don't want Clary out here if Valentine's looking for her, and we need to tell Hodge what happened."

Alec nodded, and to my amazement, he picked up the wolf, who surely weighed two hundred pounds. He must have noted my expression, because he grinned wryly. "Angel blood, remember?"

Then he and Izzy were hurrying away, and I watched Luke go, feeling utterly helpless. I had just gotten Luke back.

"Will he be okay?" I asked Jace, biting my lip hard. If I lost him just like I'd lost my mom... no. I hadn't lost her, and I wouldn't lose Luke, either. I picked up the dagger and shoved it back into my jacket.

Jace hesitated, and I appreciated that he was probably going to tell me the truth. "I think he will be," he said finally, to my enormous relief. "He should heal if they can stop the blood loss from the silver in time. They'll have people in his pack who are used to stitching their own up."

I ran a hand through my hair shakily, trying to find something to focus on besides the image of the wolf's torn body on the grass. "Why would they want Luke?"

Jace shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe punishment for leaving Valentine. Maybe because of what he could tell you about your mother." He looked at me, his expression tight with concern. "You look like you're going to pass out."

I took a deep breath. "No. No passing out. Am I going to get to fight soon?" Maybe if I'd been ready to fight we could have captured the men before they had a chance to get away.

I knew there was no point in thinking that way, but it just drove me to want to pick up the knives again as soon as possible.

Jace gave a surprised laugh. "I should have given you weapons sooner," he said. "And yes. But I have to make sure you can protect yourself first." He nodded in the direction of the Institute, only a few blocks away. "Come on, let's get back."

I needed to paint. My fear about Luke, my anger toward those men who had hurt him, would flow out through my paint brush. I didn't usually do abstracts, but maybe I would today.

"Your fingers are twitching," Jace noted as we walked. "Do you need to draw?"

"Paint," I said, trying to concentrate on my words instead of that familiar compulsion bouncing around my brain. "I need to... calm down."

"Yeah, I get that," he said as we stepped into the elevator. "I prefer to hit immovable objects and take out my anger on innocent bystanders, but it's possible that your way is more constructive."

I felt a smile twitch at the corners of my mouth. It felt weird to smile after what had just happened, but I was learning that was just what life was like as a Shadowhunter. You smiled today, because you might lose someone you loved tomorrow.

I refused to lose either my mother or Luke, though. I would do what I needed to to get them back.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading and reviewing! Also, question for those who are kind enough to review - can anyone let me know if there are any pet names Jace uses with Clary in canon? None are coming to mind to me, but surely there's something? Maybe?_


	9. Chapter 9

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you as always for all your reviews! I'm so grateful to those of you who are going on this journey with me. And special thanks to all of you who confirmed my general sense that Jace never really used any particular term of endearment with Clary in the books. Oh well, that will change in this fic. ;) Enjoy!

* * *

 **CHAPTER NINE**

Alec and Izzy returned a couple hours later, and I almost started crying with relief when they said that Luke was being stitched up.

"They said there was something on the weapons that was slowing his healing," Alec said as he and Izzy took seats on the sofa across from me. "He hasn't woken up, but they think he will once his wounds finally heal."

I was on the floor painting near Jace's feet. I hadn't stopped since we'd gotten back to the Institute and had made it through three canvases already. I was forcing myself to do semi-abstracts, which kept my attention since they weren't my strength. I kept going back to fire motifs, flames and burned houses and ash drifting in the wind.

Jace had left me there to speak to Hodge when we'd first come in, and had returned half an hour later to take a seat on the couch just next to me. He had spoken to me occasionally, but he seemed to sense that I needed to keep my attention on my art so that I didn't fall to pieces. It was a comfort just knowing he was there, and knowing he was sitting there to be with me.

"The wolves didn't like us being there at all, though," Izzy said. "We're going to have to wait for him to contact us. Did you know he was pack leader?" She directed the question at me.

I gaped. My mild-mannered father figure, leader of a werewolf pack? "Since when?" Jace asked, sitting up straighter from his lounging position.

Izzy shrugged. "They weren't really interested in answering our questions. Not long, I think. They seemed like they were still adjusting to him being alpha, so the old one must not have been dead for very long."

I looked up from my painting, meeting Izzy's eyes for just a moment in sheer surprise. "'The 'old one'?" I repeated.

"Werewolves have to kill the current alpha to become alpha," Jace told me as I glanced up at him.

"So Luke killed someone," I repeated, not needing a response. Just another piece of a life that he and my mother had known about and never told me.

Jace nodded reluctantly. "I think he must have done it for you and your mother, if that helps. Being head of the New York werewolf pack comes with a lot of power, and a lot of wolves."

"It doesn't matter," I muttered. "I'm just sick of secrets."

My phone vibrated, and I reached for it to see a text from Simon.

 _Miss you. Can we hang out this afternoon?_

I glanced up at Jace. "We need to go back to my house to get something of my mom's, for Magnus to track her, right?"

Jace glanced at Alec and Izzy. "Yeah, we'll have to sooner or later, I guess. And better while there's still daylight than tonight."

"I can't do tonight, anyway," Alec said, and then turned bright red when Izzy and Jace gave him bewildered looks.

He stared down at his lap. "Date, remember?"

A slow grin broke out over Jace's face. "So, where do a Shadowhunter and a warlock go on a date?" he asked. "Picnics at Central Park? Long walks along Rockaway Beach?"

"No," Alec said, clearly trying to sound dignified. "We're doing dinner and a movie."

Jace and Isabelle cackled, and I took mercy on the poor boy. "Can we go now?" I asked Jace, purposely drawing their attention back to me. "I really need to see Simon."

"Yes, bossy," he said. "Make sure you bring a sketchpad with you this time so I don't have to go rooftop jumping to the nearest corner store again."

My mouth dropped open. "Did you really...?"

He smirked at me and reached down to gently tug a long strand of my hair. "I guess you'll never know."

* * *

I rang the doorbell at Simon's house, though I'd been coming in without knocking for years. It just seemed rude to walk in with people he hadn't met before.

Simon stepped outside, smiling when he saw me. He was wearing his typical uniform of frayed jeans and band t-shirts, which, now that I thought about it, was very close to my outfits. Or at least what they had been before I started living out of Izzy's wardrobe.

Simon's smile faded as he came to a dead stop on the steps. He stared over my head, and I looked around frantically for whatever demon must be coming toward us.

But it was just Izzy and Alec, walking casually toward us, and I knew immediately what Simon was looking at. Izzy was wearing a tight, thigh-high ruched black dress on with her hair loose and wavy down her back, and she looked as stunning as always.

I bit back a grin. "Simon," I muttered. "You're staring."

He didn't stop. And to my surprise, Isabelle wasn't staring at him as if he was someone beneath her notice. Granted, she wasn't staring at him like he was staring at her, but her expression held a hint of... alertness, and maybe surprise.

Jace, standing next to me, looked hugely entertained by the whole ordeal. "Ah, young love," he said.

I introduced Simon to Isabelle and Alec. Simon looked like he wanted to kiss Izzy's hand, but fortunately he refrained and managed to act somewhat normally around the two of them.

"We need to go to my house for a minute," I told him. "Then we can hang out for a couple hours, if you want."

"Indoors," Jace said immediately. "Someplace well-protected."

"We could take him to Taki's, Jace," Isabelle said. "It would be safe there."

"You know why we can't," Jace said. I knew, too. I had learned that there were very few excuses the Clave would accept for bringing a mundane into our world.

"I think–" Izzy glanced at me and Simon and pulled Jace aside so we couldn't hear them, and Alec joined them as they seemed to have some sort of hushed argument.

"So," Simon said after a moment, his eyes still on Izzy. "How's your mysterious quest going? Have you heard anything about your mom?"

"No," I said, biting my lip. "We actually need to get something of hers from the house."

"What, like anything?"

I nodded. "Anything that she held a strong attachment to. I think I might try to get some of her paintbrushes."

"How–" Simon started, and then shook his head. "Need-to-know basis, I remember."

"Simon..." I felt terrible. "You know I would tell you if I could, right? I wish you could be with me all the time."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, Fray, of course I do. I just don't like you out of my sight. I have a hard time trusting that they can take care of you like you deserve."

I smiled at him, my love for him rising up. He reached over and squeezed my hand gently before letting go.

Jace, Izzy, and Alec turned back to us, looking like something had been decided.

"It's going to be hard to keep Clary in your life," Jace said to Simon, not unkindly. "At least for a while."

Simon didn't look swayed. "You're not going to be able to keep me away from her," he said simply. "Clary's as good as my sister. She's brilliant, but she's always needed someone to protect her from the assholes of the world, and her mom couldn't always be around. I knew from the day I found her crying under a tree when we were five that she was going to be my little sister. I love her, and I will always be there for her."

I stared at Simon, touched. Even Jace looked a little impressed.

"You can come with us this afternoon," Jace said finally.

My mouth dropped open. "You were going to let him come all along?"

"Only if he deserved it," Jace said.

Izzy smiled, and Alec rolled his eyes. "Come on, Simon," Isabelle said cheerfully. "There's an excellent diner we'll take you to."

"Won't bringing him there break the Accords?" I asked Jace under my breath as he fell in step beside me.

Jace shook his head. "If we guide him inside, all the glamors should still hold. He'll see the same thing mundanes see when they see Downworlders - boring, everyday people."

My shoulders slumped in relief. I desperately wanted some way to keep Simon in my life. "Thank you for letting him come," I told him.

"Well, his little speech _was_ very inspiring."

I laughed a little at that. I could almost feel Jace's smile, and then we were at my front door.

There was a glamor on it to make it look exactly how it had looked up until the day my mom had been taken - not exactly brand new, but respectable, a typical Brooklyn walk-up that was reasonably well-maintained but had looked much better at the turn of the century. I peeled the glamor off mentally and saw a front door barely hanging on by its hinges, broken windows, and through the front windows a trashed living room and dining room. I winced.

Jace led the way inside, followed by Alec. Izzy stood outside the house with Simon. I assumed bringing him inside might break the glamor for him.

"I don't feel anything off, but we'll see," Jace said, mostly to Alec. He walked into the living room while Alec headed in the other direction. They both came out a minute later, shaking their heads.

I followed the two of them up to the second floor, where my mom's and my bedrooms were. I couldn't help but stop in mine first. Dozens of my drawings hung on horizontal ropes on all four walls with little clips. Not my doing, but my mom's. They were almost all of people, full body active shots and portraits, with a few abstracts thrown in.

My canvases, which were lined up against the walls on narrow horizontal shelving, were a little more varied. I was usually a little more stylistic when I was painting, and I liked to paint similar things over and over with different color patterns to evoke different moods. My mom had liked my underwater style paintings most recently, so that was what most of them were.

Jace had come up behind me without me realizing, and I jumped when he spoke. "I keep thinking I've seen the extent of your talent, and I keep being surprised," he murmured, bending down a little so he was speaking into my ear. A shiver ran down my spine.

"It's nothing," I said, embarrassed.

"It's amazing," he said seriously. I glanced up at him, and he smiled as he always did when I made eye contact with him. The way he was looking at me made me feel like I was falling from something high up.

There were footsteps behind us. "Find anything?" Alec asked.

I broke off from staring at Jace like an idiot and searched around my room frantically for something of my mom's to pretend like I had actually been doing something useful in here. I saw a pile of cards in the corner on one of my shelves and walked to them. It was my mom's tarot card deck. I'd loved to look through the cards when I was younger. She'd painted them individually, and each one must have taken her hours to do.

She'd never been into New Age stuff, but I figured she'd just wanted to paint something different for once, which I could understand. I didn't think they would work for tracking her, since I'd been the one who'd looked through them most often, but I grabbed them anyway and stuck them in my purse. They were pretty, and I wanted a reminder of her with me.

"No, let's look in her room," I said, and Alec and Jace followed me into my mom's room. It looked like demons had been through again after Jace and I had left last time. I hated to see so many of my her things utterly shredded, and I was worried that being destroyed would mean they wouldn't work for Magnus's purposes. My eyes lit on couple of paint brushes were scattered on the floor near her nightstand and looked untouched by whatever had been in here last. I bent down to pick them up and nudged one of them under the bed by accident.

As I knelt to pick it up I glanced under the bed, and saw the little box that I had forgotten my mom owned pushed against the far wall. I knew nothing about it other than that she pulled it out once a year to cry over. I assumed it had belonged to my father, Jonathan Clark, as his initials were engraved across the front.

I got on my stomach and slithered under the bed. There were some perks to being so small. I pulled it out with me. "Here," I said when I was upright again, handing the box to Jace. "This was my father's. It meant... _means_ a lot to my mother."

If personal significance would improve the tracking spell, this was the most meaningful possession that my mother owned that I knew of.

Jace, naturally enough, had started to unlock it. "If you don't have to open it to track her, I'd prefer if you didn't," I said. "I haven't, either. She's never showed it to me. I just know she cries over it sometimes."

Jace's fingers stilled, and he nodded. I grabbed the paintbrushes and rose to my feet. "I'll take these just in case, too."

We returned downstairs and met Simon and Izzy back in the front of the house. Izzy, to my amazement, was absolutely dying laughing at something Simon must have said. The tips of his ears were pink, but he was grinning widely at her, as if he couldn't believe she was really there, laughing at his jokes.

Jace raised an eyebrow at them when we came out the front door. They both stilled, though their smiles didn't completely fade.

"Are you sure you're still up for this?" Jace asked Simon. Simon nodded seriously.

Jace sighed. "Then to Taki's we go."

* * *

The glamor seemed to hold on Simon as he followed Izzy through the entrance to Taki's, since he wasn't staring around in amazement at all the Downworlders around us.

They were just as motley a crew as last time, I saw as I slid into a booth. Three tiny pink faeries that looked like triplets were having a fierce argument over a milkshake that looked like it was made from grass, while a vampire with blue-streaked black hair was drinking what looked like blood from a massive beer glass, staring moodily out the window.

Even the menu seemed to be protected from mundane eyes. Simon glanced at the other side, where the Downworlder meals were listed, and immediately flipped it back over, as if it had looked blank to him.

"I can't stay long," Alec said as he sat down.

"We know, we know, dinner and a movie," Jace said. "You won't want to ruin your appetite."

Simon and Izzy immediately resumed the conversation they'd been having earlier. It involved the genius that was Star Wars and asking her to come with him to a free showing of the most recent one at his high school.

I was legitimately impressed that Simon had managed to ask her out, and even more impressed that she looked like she genuinely wanted to go. Jace rolled his eyes at both of them, but I smiled. I thought it was sweet.

The same waitress as last time, Kaelie, came to take our orders. Just like that I was hit with a sudden wave of cold panic. I stared down at the table in front of me.

"Can you order?" I asked Jace under my breath. "Please."

Usually I'd be able to handle ordering something from a stranger as long as I didn't look at them, but the fear of freezing up in front of everyone at the table, even though I guessed they were kind of all my friends now, was enough to make my heart pound. Sometimes the fear came on suddenly, even when it wasn't logical. That was one of the worst aspects of it. It didn't help that it was hard to forget what had happened last time in here, when Jace had had to go buy paper and pencils for me before I could even speak again.

As usual, Jace handled the situation as if I wasn't the most pathetic person on the planet and ordered pancakes for both of us like he'd been planning to order for me all along.

As Kaelie walked away, I remembered what he had said about blondes and tried to figure out what he _couldn_ _'t_ see in the faerie girl. She was slim but curvy, had perfect blonde hair, red lips, and big boobs. Granted, the solid blue eyes were kind of unsettling, but I figured most guys could probably get over that.

Now that I'd examined her so closely, I wanted to draw her. Later, though. She'd probably get weirded out if I did it in front of her.

My fingers twitched, and Simon broke off his conversation with Izzy to look across the table at me with razor sharp precision. "Please tell me you brought one with you."

I nodded and reached into my purse. Izzy looked baffled until I pulled out the small sketchpad and pencil. "Oh, can you do Threepio and Artoo?" Simon said. "I'm trying to describe them to Izzy."

He didn't usually make requests, but I figured for the sake of aiding his flirtation with Izzy he was willing to ask. I didn't mind, just nodded and started drawing. I'd actually never drawn the characters despite all my years as Simon's friend, and the challenge of accurately drawing robots from movies I had last seen several years ago was interesting enough to keep me occupied while everyone spoke around me.

After several minutes, I felt my breathing gradually calm until I could start to listen to what the others were actually saying again.

I didn't realize Jace had been looking over my shoulder until he spoke. "Red, what on earth are those... things?" I jumped straight up in the air and broke my pencil tip.

I frowned up at him, not realizing for a second that I was looking him in the eye for the second time in an hour.

I immediately dropped my gaze, but not before I saw him smile triumphantly.

"You scared me!"

Simon, not breaking off his debate with Izzy over whether Darth Vader was a terrible or awesome villain name, reached into his pocket and handed me another pencil across the table.

I took it from him and tapped on the figures. "They're robots," I told Jace. "In a movie series. I don't really get the appeal, but Simon loves them."

"Droids," Simon corrected me absently.

Kaelie came back with our food, and Jace picked up my sketchpad and set it between us on the booth seat so that she could set all the plates down. "Wouldn't want your... droids to be ruined," he said, giving the figures another quizzical look. "Mundanes, honestly."

If Simon heard him, he didn't respond, just bit into the burger he'd ordered and listened intently to Izzy's recounting of her recent visit to the mall as if it was an Indiana Jones-worthy journey into the wild.

"I have to admit, this was not how I was expecting our excursion to go," Jace said in a low voice as he took a bite of his pancake.

"I didn't know you were capable of being surprised," I said mildly.

I heard him snort. "Trust me, there are some things that are _perfectly_ capable of surprising me."

Before I could respond to that, I was abruptly aware of Izzy's eyes on me from across the table. I glanced up at her eyes just long enough to ensure that she was indeed looking at me expectantly.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked uncertainly.

"No," she said. "But I need to go to the restroom."

I stared at her, baffled. "Okay?"

"Clary," she said patiently. " _We_ need to go to the restroom."

I still didn't understand, but I had learned by now that what Izzy wanted, Izzy got. I figured I might as well give in now. "Okay," I said, looking at my half-eaten pancakes longingly.

Not even bothering to argue, Jace and Alec slid out of the booth so that I could follow Izzy to the back of the restaurant.

"Clary," Isabelle said as soon as the restroom door was closed behind us. "Why the hell have you never told me about Simon before?"

"I wasn't trying to keep him a secret!" I said. "I just didn't think you'd be interested in a mundane."

"Well, yes, that detail will need to be worked on. I've already got a few ideas. But seriously, Clary, tell me _all_ about him."

"He's amazing," I said simply. "He's thoughtful and compassionate and funny. He always made me feel like less of a freak, and he was always there to make sure nobody made fun of me."

"You're not a freak," she said immediately, and I couldn't help but feel a little burst of warmth. "Has he had a girlfriend before?"

I thought back. "He's had a couple." I had never been introduced to them because he'd said they weren't important enough to be worth me stressing out over having to talk to a stranger. "But they weren't serious. I've never seen him act this way around anyone."

"What way?" Isabelle said intently. "Tell me in detail."

"So...focused on you, I guess. Every time I looked at you two he was watching you to see how you'd react to what he was saying. And when you were talking he smiled every time you smiled."

Isabelle quirked her eyebrow. "You notice things like that?"

I shrugged. "I draw people. I pay attention to what they look like, to what they're doing."

"And you think Simon is into me?"

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. "Izzy, he's usually pretty shy around girls. If he's already asking you out it means he's serious. Really serious."

She nodded, looking pleased. "I've never had a guy who was into me actually care about what I said. Or who made me laugh."

"I promise he'll do both. Just, please, Izzy..." I forced myself to look her in the eyes to make my point. "Please don't break his heart. He's not a casual dater, and he's not in it for sex. He's talking to you like that because he _likes_ you."

She gave me a brilliant smile, like I'd given her the best answer should could have hoped for.

"I won't," she promised. She pulled open the restroom door so that we could walk back to our booth. " _Excellent_ bathroom talk," she murmured to me before we sat down. "Seriously Clary, thank you."

I smiled. "I'm glad to help."

Alec was absent when we got back to the booth, and Jace looked up from his conversation with Simon to scoot to the far end to make room for me, while Izzy sat down a little closer to Simon than she had previously. I bit back a smile.

"Where's Alec?" I asked.

Jace smirked. "He said he had a few things to work on this evening, but I suspect those activities largely comprise of practicing scintillating conversation starters in the mirror and trying on and discarding dozens of frayed clothes he's owned for approximately the last decade."

Isabelle looked stricken. "Oh, I should have bought him some outfits to wear today. He's hopeless, honestly."

Simon looked confused. "He said he had a date, right?"

"Yes," Izzy said absently, pulling out her phone. "We sold him out for a favor."

"Oh, he was a very willing gentleman of the evening," Jace said. "I'm certainly not losing any sleep over it."

Izzy rolled her eyes, while Simon looked baffled.

"I just texted him to raid your closet," she told Jace, putting her phone away.

He looked appalled, as if she had grievously insulted him. "My clothes won't fit him! I'm more muscular!"

"You're also shorter than him," Isabelle said serenely.

"By an inch!"

I giggled, and Simon cracked a smile, too.

Jace rolled his eyes, apparently deciding to be the dignified one, and signed the check that Kaelie must have dropped off. "Come on, we need to give Alec that box before he leaves."

Simon and Izzy both got up from the booth, looking regretful. They had moved so their legs were only an inch or so apart, I noticed before they rose.

Jace and I let them walk in front of us along the sidewalk as we made our way back to Simon's house. They hadn't stopped talking to each other since they'd met.

When we got to Simon's house, Izzy handed over her phone for him to put in his number, which he did with a huge grin on his face. I could hear Jace scoff next to me, but I smiled. I thought it was sweet.

I stepped forward to say my goodbyes to Simon, and he gave me a soft hug. "Thanks for coming to hang out with me today, Fray."

I glanced up at him, seeing the sparkle in his eyes. "You mean thanks for introducing you to my... friends?"

"Yeah, Alec's a great guy," Simon said earnestly, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

"Love you, Simon," I said. "My life is crazy right now, but I'll try to see you as soon as possible."

"Love you too, Fray."

I gave him one more smile and stepped back to stand by Jace. Apparently the boys didn't need to say goodbye to each other.

Isabelle stepped closer to Simon, a shy smile on her face. Their voices dropped low enough that I couldn't hear them.

"Do you think they'll kiss?" Jace whispered to me.

"On the day they met? Simon's not that ballsy."

Jace murmured in agreement.

We both watched as Simon leaned forward to give Isabelle a kiss on the cheek. To my shock, Isabelle blushed.

"Oh," I said, and for once, Jace didn't seem to have anything witty to say.

Isabelle turned back toward us with a triumphant expression on her face, and Simon waved at us before going inside, looking almost as pleased as Isabelle did.

"You're quite the matchmaker, Red," Jace said to me as we walked. He shot Isabelle an amused glance, but she seemed to be off in her own world for once and didn't even glance at us.

"Completely unintentionally," I said with a little laugh. "I wouldn't have ever guessed."

I could feel his eyes on me. "I think you were the happiest I've ever seen you this evening. Was it because Simon was there?"

"No," I said without thinking. "It's because you all were."

Jace's grin, when I chanced a glance at him, lit up his face.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading!_


	10. Chapter 10

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** To aysha09: Haha, I do understand the frustration with the pace of Jace and Clary's relationship compared to Sizzy's, but you've got to understand that Clary and Simon are coming from two very different places. The Simon in this fic is different from canon Simon in a couple of important ways. He is fairly self-confident because he's spent his life learning to stick up to people in defense of Clary, and he has always seen Clary as his little sister and not a romantic interest, so he's had girlfriends before Izzy. He's nervous around Izzy because he's never met a girl he likes as much as her, but he's still confident enough to go for what he wants.

This Clary, on the other hand, has no idea what she's doing and barely understands her own feelings, and Jace is terrified he's going to push too hard and scare her off him forever, so he's trying to stick to only gentle nudging on his part. All that said, I think you might like this chapter. :)

Re the sibling confusion: it will come up, and it will also be resolved. This fic covers roughly the same timeline as _City of Bones_ , and I'm not going to end it with Clary and Jace thinking they're siblings. I'm not that cruel! HEA, I promise.

To sophiecampbellbower on the Malec date: I was originally planning for us to see this date, but I ultimately decided to shift it so we'll see their next one instead. I think it will be worth it because I can include a couple more fun things in the scene (*cough* Clace *cough*) if I push it back in the timeline a little. I think it will be worth the delay!

* * *

 **CHAPTER TEN**

Isabelle, finally seeming to snap out of her Simon-induced spell, rushed up the stairs of the Institute the minute we got back, calling Alec's name. Jace set the box and the brushes by the door for Alec to take when he left before we followed more slowly upstairs.

Izzy was in Jace's room, and I hesitated at the door before Jace gestured me inside. Alec stood forlornly in the middle of the room in a pair of loose jeans and a faded t-shirt, with two dress ties looped over his shoulder. "Izzy, I only have fifteen minutes," he said helplessly.

His sister muttered something I couldn't make out from inside Jace's closet.

Jace sighed and continued into his room behind me. He sat down on his bed and motioned me to come sit beside him. It felt bizarrely intimate to sit with him on his bed, even with two other people in the room with us, and I could feel my face starting to heat up. I stared at the floor, willing my blush to fade.

His room was exquisitely tidy. It even looked like he regularly dusted it. "Perhaps you could consider getting something from Robert's closet," he suggested to his siblings. "Rather than destroying mine."

"Dad weighs two hundred pounds, Jace." Isabelle came out of his closet with a few button-down shirts and motioned impatiently for Alec to take his shirt off.

Alec sighed, but he seemed desperate enough to be willing to endure playing dress-up in front of all of us. "I should have remembered you only had the one decent shirt," Izzy said, handing Alec the first of Jace's shirts to try on.

Jace stretched out on the bed behind me, propping his arms behind his head and very pointedly ignoring the activities happening in his room.

Izzy deemed this shirt acceptable and grabbed a belt for his jeans, which I assumed were Jace's as well, and were a little too big on Alec's more wiry frame. Izzy took the ties from him and tossed them carelessly back into the closet. Jace made an unhappy noise but said nothing.

"Good enough. Come on, I have to do your hair before you go," she said, pulling Alec back out of the room. They were gone without looking back at either of us.

Jace sat up and looked down sadly at all the clothes now scattered on his floor. "I'll help you pick up," I said, setting my purse down on the floor.

He shook his head. "You draw," he said. "I'll clean."

I leaned over to pick up my sketchpad. I hadn't fully finished my _Star Wars_ sketches. "Okay, but only if you talk," I said. I glanced at his desk chair, but decided that since Jace had already let me sit on his bed he wouldn't mind if I stayed on it to draw. I kicked off my shoes and sat down cross-legged, leaning against the wall.

"A very difficult proposition for me, as I'm sure you've noticed," Jace said, disappearing inside his closet.

"About yourself," I clarified, amazed at how firm my voice sounded. "You already know practically my whole life story."

I desperately wanted to know every detail of his life, however much he was willing to tell me.

He didn't say anything for a minute, and I thought he wasn't going to respond. When he emerged, his expression was unreadable. He walked to the bed and slowly sat down near the head of the bed.

"You know I'm not a Lightwood," he said finally.

I had known his last name was Wayland, and I remembered what he'd told Luke. "Your dad passed away when you were ten, right?"

"My dad was _murdered_ when I was ten. By Valentine."

I sucked in a breath. "That's awful. I'm sorry."

He tossed me a wry glance. "Not your fault. I lived in Idris then. My mother died when I was a baby, and I had no other family. The Clave took me into custody, and the Lightwoods were willing to take me in. I've lived here ever since."

"They seem to treat you like a son."

His gaze was far away. "They do a good job, for the most part. They're away a lot, as I'm sure you've noticed, but then, my father was, too."

He didn't say anything else for a long moment. "I always wondered what it would be like to have a father," I volunteered, not sure why I was telling him this. "Simon doesn't have one, either. We used to talk about it. Someone who would talk to him about girls. Someone who could threaten any boys who were interested in me - not that there would ever be any. But just to have someone who would be willing to."

Jace leaned back on his bed so that he was staring at the ceiling. "I did the same, except I imagined having a mother. Someone who was loving and affectionate. My father was a lot of things, but he wasn't that. And Maryse isn't really, either."

"I'm sure he loved you in his own way," I said. How could anyone not love Jace? Especially the bright-eyed, playful child I was sure he must have been.

Jace barked an unamused laugh. "He gave me a falcon when I was six and told me to tame it. It was wild and bit me and scratched me every time I got close to it, but I was determined to do what my father had said. It took weeks, but I brought it food and stayed close to it so that it got used to my presence. I finally brought it to my father. I was so proud. And my father broke its neck."

I couldn't stop myself from flinching. "What?"

He didn't look away from the ceiling. "He said he had told me to tame it, but I had made it love me. That to love is to destroy, and to be loved is to be the one destroyed."

"Jace..." I couldn't figure out what I wanted to say without sounding like I was pitying him or criticizing his father. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

He didn't say anything for a while. "Sometimes I do," he said finally.

After I left Jace's room that night, I stayed up for hours, drawing falcons from memory over and over. When I finally pushed aside my sketchpad and fell sleep, my dreams were of a young golden-haired boy crying.

* * *

I was woken the next morning by Izzy's knock on my bedroom door. When I called out groggily for her to enter, she bounced in, fully dressed for the day in a black miniskirt and tight white blouse. "My parents are back," she said. "My mom wants to talk about where we are in the search for your mom."

I couldn't help freeze as I pushed the covers off. Isabelle's parents were still intimidating to me, and I hated the thought that I might have to speak in front of them without anyone to shield me from them or draw their attention off me.

"Jace is coming," Izzy said, as if she could read my mind. "He just had to shower; he'll be here in a second."

The thought of Jace in a shower didn't do a whole lot to calm my nerves, but I nodded shakily and reached for a clean set of clothes among those that Isabelle had deposited in my closet. All my options were variations on tight and black, so I just grabbed a random pair of jeans and a top. I was just thankful that Isabelle never got rid of her old clothes, since she had told me she had last worn these when she was about fourteen. That they fit me was certainly convenient, but still not very confidence inspiring for me.

I was glad I had changed in the closet, since Jace was standing with Izzy outside my open doorway when I stepped back out. He smiled at me and did that flick up and down that I was getting used to. I fingered the loose end of my hair and tried not to blush.

Izzy rolled her eyes. "Come on, Jace. Leave the poor girl alone."

"I'm struggling to think of a reason I would want to do that." Izzy snorted.

Jace glanced around my room curiously. It wasn't dirty, but my pencils, sketchpads, and extra canvases littered various surfaces. He was probably secretly horrified. "Grab your sketchpad," was all he said, though. "I'm coming with you." There was the tiniest pause. "As long as you want me to, I mean."

"Yes, please," I said, ducking my head as I reached over for the sketchpad. Of course I wanted Jace with me.

Something about his posture relaxed, and he gestured elaborately for me to precede him out the door. "Pretty much the same deal this time," he said as he walked beside me. "Just Maryse, but she's going to be there with Alec; you can draw, and you don't have to look at them."

I took a deep breath. I could do this. "Okay."

Jace's adoptive mother looked up when we entered their office. Alec was sitting in one of the armchairs across from the desk.

"Clary, Jace, please sit down," she said, gesturing at the other armchair. I sat down in it uncertainly, and Jace leaned against one of the armrests, close to me but not touching me. He was getting very good at that.

I quickly flipped to the next page on my sketchpad, hoping Jace didn't see my most recent drawings of the falcons, as Maryse spoke.

"Alec has told me that Mr. Bane performed the tracking ritual yesterday evening, Clary. Normally I would have liked to known this before asking him to go ahead, but since Mr. Bane kindly agreed to do it free of charge, I agree that there was no point in waiting."

She said this all so blandly, without a trace of surprise. Maryse seemed so perceptive in other areas, but for some reason she seemed to have no questions about the fact that the High Warlock of Brooklyn would do something for her son for free after knowing him for less than forty-eight hours. Maybe she didn't want to know.

I nodded, trying not to get my hopes up too much. Maryse turned to Alec. "Go ahead and tell them what the warlock told you."

When I looked over at Alec, I saw that he looked tired but not unhappy, as if he'd stayed out late but didn't regret it. Once again I hadn't heard him come in last night. I hoped his date had gone well.

"Magnus—" He glanced at his mother. "Um, Mr. Bane — said she's within the city."

My heart leaped, and I met his eyes for a second. "Where?"

"He thinks somewhere in or near upper Manhattan, but the spell can't give him information to be much more precise than that. Bodies of water, among a few other things, apparently impede locating spells." Alec shrugged. "Meaning New York City isn't a great place to search for anyone in general."

"But most importantly she's alive, Clary," Maryse broke in. "Tracking spells do not work on the deceased."

My shoulders slumped in relief, and I almost started crying in front of everyone, which would have been humiliating. I fought back my tears.

"So what do we do now?" I asked.

"Magnus is going to try a few different variations on the spell over the next couple of days to see if we can triangulate her location a little better," Alec said.

"Then you may well have to walk the streets to see if you can find any locations that might have any significance to your mother," Maryse added. "This is very good news, though, Clary."

I nodded. I knew it was, but it was both more and less than I'd hoped for.

"Thanks, Alec," I said quietly to my lap. "And thank you, Mrs. Lightwood."

She laughed. "Maryse, please, Clary. And one more thing, while I have you all here. Most of the Council and some of the other Shadowhunters from Idris will be coming here in two days via Portal."

Jace, who had seemed to be paying little attention to the conversation, suddenly stood straight up. "What? Why?"

"They'll want to interrogate you about the two men you fought with, as well as about Lucian. I suspect they'll also be looking for evidence that we at the Institute are in collusion with Valentine somehow." She sighed. "It will all be under the guise of a party, however. I'm afraid you'll all need to be there."

I could feel Jace looking at me. "But Clary–"

Maryse sighed. "I know. But she'll have to spend at least some of her time there. They know that Jocelyn Fairchild's daughter is here, and they'll want to speak to her." She held up a hand to the protest Jace was already making. "I have already explained to them my terms, Jace. No more than two people talking to her at a time, and you, Alec or Isabelle will be with her at all times."

"I will be," Jace said immediately.

"Yes, I rather thought you might," Maryse said, sounding vaguely amused. "That's all I have for you three. Please dress nicely for our... guests tomorrow evening. And please let Isabelle know. I'm sure she'll want to get started on her outfit planning."

We all stood, and I followed Alec and Jace out.

"Are you going to be okay with the party, Red?" Jace asked me once Maryse's door had closed behind us.

My stomach was already tight with the thought of all those people around me, looking at me, trying to talk to me. I hated to imagine how much worse I would feel when it was actually happening. "I guess I'm going to have to be," I said shakily.

"We'll watch out for you," Alec promised. "And I'll try to stop Jace from starting any blood feuds if anyone looks at you wrong."

"Thanks, Alec," I said, genuinely touched. It was a foreign but warm feeling to know that someone else besides just Simon and my mom cared about me.

Still, the nervousness had my fingers twitching. Strong emotion always made me want to draw or paint even more than I usually did. It was cathartic, somehow.

"Go," Jace told me, and I glanced up at him in surprise. "I've gotten better at noticing, right?" he said with a grin as I made brief eye contact with him. "I'm going to be at Simon's level soon, just wait."

I couldn't help flash him a small smile of my own. "I'll believe it when I see it." But I did as I was told and returned to my own room.

I sat cross legged on my bed and pulled out my colored pencils. I didn't use them that often; usually if I wanted color I would just paint. But I wanted to be in the safety of my room for a little while still using color in my work.

Emotions were colorful, after all, and I began tracing in some swirling, ribbon-y abstracts, letting my fears for my mother and for having to talk with the other Shadowhunters all bleed into drawing after drawing until enough time passed that my hands had stopped shaking.

* * *

Some hours later, I was pushing my loose hair back behind my shoulder for the millionth time as I leaned over my sketchpad, shading in a misty swirl decorating the edges of the page. With my hair out of the way I could see Jace standing in my open doorway. I jumped and almost dropped my Dusty Rose when I saw him.

He was watching me wordlessly, his blond curls partly falling over one eye as he tilted his head against the door frame. I wondered how long he'd been there.

"Jace?" I asked uncertainly when he didn't say anything.

There was a steadiness, a determination in his eyes I didn't recognize. His look alone set my heart pounding, and I sat without moving, watching him.

Still not responding, he walked slowly toward me and crawled up behind me on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He didn't touch me, but I still felt like I couldn't breathe. Very deliberately, he stretched his long legs out on either side of mine, and I could feel the heat from his chest just inches away from pressing against my back.

I squeezed my eyes shut so hard they hurt.

"I'm obeying all the rules, right, Red?" His voice came from my right ear, and in my peripheral vision I could see he was leaning over to speak, still without touching me.

The cockiness in his voice was so familiar that my fear fled, and I opened my eyes, scowling. He chuckled and leaned back against the headboard, propping one hand behind his head and the other comfortably resting along his thigh. "Don't let me distract you."

That ship had sailed a long, long time ago.

I looked down at his hand. His fingers were long, strong, lightly scarred. A warrior's hands, and a pianist's hands. He was a contradiction in almost every way.

I still hadn't resumed drawing and my heart hadn't stopped racing, but I wasn't afraid. Or at least, I wasn't afraid that Jace was going to try to hurt me or scare me.

I was afraid of how Jace made me feel, and I was afraid I was going to do something so stupid that he would never want to look at me or care about me ever again.

But this desire to touch... It was somehow easier to face when I wasn't able to see his face.

Biting my lip hard, I reached out with my free hand to hover over his. I had no idea what I was doing. Something I had never felt before was overpowering my normal aversion to touch.

Jace didn't move, but I thought his breathing picked up slightly behind me.

I could do this. I _wanted_ to do this. It was scary, but then again, I was Clary Fray. That's what I was. Afraid. All the time.

Maybe it was time to be something else.

Before I could change my mind, I pressed the palm of my hand down on the back of his hand, my pale fingers extending only half as long as his did.

My vision blurred at the edges. _I was doing this._ My fingers tingled and his hand was hot under mine.

Jace's voice came from behind me, sounding slightly shaky. "I'm going to turn my hand over, Clary, okay?"

I could barely bring myself to nod. His warm, gentle hand turned under mine, and I let myself feel the shifting muscles and flesh instead of flinching away. It felt intimate to keep my hand in his.

Slowly, our palms met. More heat, more heart pounding. Without saying anything, he shifted his hand slightly so that my fingers naturally fell in the gap between his.

He didn't try to do anything else. Maybe I should have been glad, but it seemed so silly to sit there like this and not hold his hand. Slowly, I curled my fingers between his, and I was certain I heard him suck in a breath behind me. He hadn't been expecting me to do that.

 _I_ hadn't been expecting me to do that.

His fingers wrapped naturally around mine, and though I was breathing quickly and my heart was pounding, it felt more right than anything I'd felt in a long time.

I couldn't handle a lot of things that normal people could, but holding hands with Jace was something I could do. Something that I _wanted_ to do, preferably all the time now.

Finally, I picked up my pencil again with my free hand. I tried to embed my excitement, my fear, my anticipation into my strokes. Jace was absolutely silent as I drew, as if he didn't want to ruin the moment.

He didn't need to worry, though. As long as he was with me, he couldn't ruin anything.


	11. Chapter 11

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** : The response to the last chapter was amazing. I am so grateful for you guys, and some of you are hilarious in your comments, as well.

I also wanted to remark that if anyone has any confusion over a certain timeline discrepancy (it's been alluded to in other chapters but is more heavily referenced in this one), fear not; it is intentional. All will be explained in due time. :)

Also, the next chapter and the one after are each like 90% done. (Yay!)

* * *

 **CHAPTER ELEVEN**

I sat down on the couch in the living room later that evening, my skin still prickling from where my hand had made contact with Jace's.

He'd left me a couple hours before, when Alec had called his name from downstairs, rising fluidly from behind me and tossing me his usual heartbreaking smile as he strolled out my bedroom door almost before I'd processed that he was moving. I wondered if he'd ever lose his ability to make me blush.

I looked up as Max bounded into the room, his glasses slipping down his nose. He flashed me a bright smile, and I couldn't help smiling back. His cheerfulness was infectious.

"I missed you, Clary! I was so bored in Idris. None of the kids there like graphic novels."

"Hey, Max," I said as he walked over to me and climbed up on the couch beside me like he'd known me for years. He reminded me so much of Simon. "I missed you, too."

He held up a dog-eared and obviously well-loved comic book volume. I recognized it as _Naruto,_ though I'd never read it. Its target demographic was pretty squarely middle school-aged boys and I'd missed out on the appeal.

"Do you read _Naruto_?"

I shook my head. "No, but I know it's supposed to be really good. You like it?"

He covered the issue and volume number on the corner of the cover with his hand and held it up playfully. "Tell me what volume this is and I'll let you know."

He was clearly joking, but I glanced again at the cover and closed my eyes. I pictured myself walking down the far left aisle of Star Comics near my house the last time Simon and I had been there. My eyes had gone straight to the next issue of _Nodame Cantabile_ , but _Naruto_ had been on the shelves to my left, four of its volumes face out because of its popularity.

And one had had two characters on a background of red like the one Max was holding, and on the front it had said…

I opened my eyes. "Volume 63," I said aloud.

Max's mouth dropped open. "No. Way."

I couldn't stop myself from smiling. No one had ever seemed to get such entertainment out of my photographic recall as he did.

Max glanced behind me, and I twisted around to see Jace standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest casually. I wondered how long he had been there.

"Jace, Clary is _amazing_ ," Max said fervently.

Jace cracked a smile and walked toward us. "Yeah, she is," Jace said, and I ducked behind my hair so that he couldn't see my face. "But get your own girl, kid," Jace told Max lightly.

Max snorted, but then his expression lit up. "Will you take me to the comic book store, Jace? And Clary? Soon?"

"Yes, little brother," Jace said with a chuckle. "In fact, why don't you go right now and make a list of the comics you want to get?"

Max cheered and grabbed the volume again. "See you later, Clary!" he called out as he hurried from the room.

Jace took a seat on next to me, wrapping an arm casually around the back of the couch behind my head. When he didn't say anything, I peeked over at him. He raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for me to do something.

After a moment, I understood what he wanted. I bit my lip and moved a couple inches closer until our legs and thighs touched.

Like before, the contact was so overwhelming that it took me a moment to process it all. I closed my eyes, breathing slowly and deliberately. I could feel Jace's warmth through his jeans, smell the faint trace of aftershave he used.

He was utterly still and silent until I finally relaxed against him. His arm came down around my shoulders, so I was wrapped from my shoulders and neck to my sides against him. I had never been touched like this before. I would have been terrified of it with anyone else, but with Jace for some reason it wasn't scary.

Jace didn't say anything, and I didn't think I could handle talking right now, anyway. He let me adjust to the contact wordlessly, as he so effortlessly understood so many of my weird quirks.

Izzy joined us downstairs a few minutes later, and her eyes immediately shot to me and Jace, her eyes lingering on the space, or lack thereof, between us.

"That's new," she said.

"I told her I'd grow on her," Jace said. He trailed his hand down my bare upper arm and back up, and my brain shut down for a moment.

When I came back to myself, Isabelle was smirking at us. "Like a fungus, maybe."

"What's a fungus?" Alec asked, stepping into the room from the opposite end of the Institute, where the elevator outside was. He was wearing boots and his hair was windblown, and he had clearly just come in from outside. He was holding a folded city map in his hand.

"I am, apparently," Jace said. "What did Magnus say?"

Alec sat down heavily on the couch across from ours, and Izzy took the loveseat. "He marked off the boundaries of the spell for us as they stand now." He spread out the map over the coffee table.

It was Manhattan, every block and street labeled. I had memorized maps of all the boroughs years ago just in case I ever got lost, but I examined this one intently. Someone had drawn marks and lines in ink along some of the streets, and there were a couple of overlapping circles drawn in pencil.

"Magnus wanted to know if there were any places you wanted him to try first," Alec said to me. He tapped the eastern edge of the map. "I know you're from Brooklyn, but he doesn't think your mom's off the island. Is there anyplace in Manhattan that was significant to her?"

I leaned forward to trace the border of the island, thinking. My mom had a few other acquaintances, all artists, but they lived in Brooklyn, too, and Luke lived pretty close to my house, toward Williamsburg. My mom loved Brooklyn and always joked that everything she needed was on the east side of the river, away from the snobs in Manhattan.

"Parsons is there," I said finally. "Though that's really only significant because of me. That's all I can think of. She doesn't like Manhattan."

Alec nodded. "It's something, at least. We can start there. I'll let Magnus know."

I sank back against the couch and Jace again, and his arm tightened around my shoulders. Anxiety was coiling in my stomach again as I contemplated the fact that it might be almost impossible to find my mom. That I only knew she was alive as of yesterday. That anything could happen to her before I found her. That I might never find her.

"Do you still think she was kidnapped?" Alec was asking Jace.

I could feel Jace glance at me. "I think she wouldn't leave Clary willingly."

Alec nodded. "Then I'll tell Magnus tomorrow." He glanced at the heavy gilded clock on the wall. "I'm starving. Takeout?"

"Delivery," Izzy said, rising. "I'll call it in." She walked into the kitchen, Alec following. I caught Magnus's name and could hear the teasing tone in her voice.

Then Jace and I were left alone for the first time since he'd held my hand in my bedroom. Or maybe since I had held his. I still sort of couldn't believe I'd done that.

Then I was flooded with guilt for thinking about him again, for not trying to figure out where my mom could be. I needed to focus. I needed to find out what was happening in my life, why I had been dragged into this life _now_. I needed my mother to tell me. But she never would be able to if she was —

"Do you remember what that man said about me?" I asked Jace abruptly, unable to be alone with my thoughts anymore.

That was a horrifically vague question, and I opened my mouth to clarify, but Jace responded immediately. "That Valentine wanted to see you." His mouth twisted. "Trust me, that stuck with me. 'Delighted', I believe, was his exact word choice."

I nodded slowly. "That makes it sound like he doesn't have my mom then, doesn't it? The only reason I can think of that he'd care about me would be to get to her."

I looked over at Jace long enough to see him frown as he stared into the middle distance. "I don't know, Red. Maybe he cares about finding you just because you're her daughter. Or he wants to use you as leverage."

"Leverage?" I asked. "How?"

"To bargain with," he said reluctantly. "To get us to come to him, wherever he's hiding."

"You mean to _rescue_ me," I said sharply. "Jace, promise me you won't try to do that! I'm the least important part of this whole thing." I was just a liability — they needed to focus on finding my mom, and protecting her from Valentine if he had her or knew where she was. There were so many more important things than me.

"I'm not going to promise you that," Jace said, and there wasn't anger in his tone, just calm conviction.

"Jace, you'll be needed here, to be ready to face Valentine in case he comes here." I was aware we were arguing over a hypothetical, but I needed him to understand. He couldn't get himself hurt trying to save me.

Jace didn't respond immediately, and I had an awful thought. "You _want_ to find Valentine, don't you? Not just us, but you personally. You want to kill him yourself."

Jace's shoulders against mine tensed, and then relaxed. "Yes," he said simply, but I could almost feel the hatred toward the man racing under his skin. "I do want that."

I opened my mouth, but I closed it again a second later. I knew better to argue with him over this. I knew him well enough already to know that when he had his mind up about something nothing would convince him otherwise.

Instead, I took a deep breath and asked the question that had been bothering me since we'd seen Luke. "Do you blame me because my mom was married to Valentine?"

I asked it all in a rush, terrified of his answer, but I had to know.

"No, of course not," Jace said immediately, and I felt a little better.

"Luke said he was different in the beginning," I offered timidly.

He snorted. "You don't really believe that any more than I do, Red. I'm sure your mom's a great person, and I don't blame _you_ , but you've got to understand I'm not ever going to be thrilled with her for marrying the man who murdered my father."

I nodded slowly. "I understand that, Jace. I'm not thrilled with her either. I think I'm just now realizing how much of her I didn't know." I snorted, though it wasn't funny. "She hasn't had very good luck with men, I guess. The first one was evil, the second died less than six months after she met him."

"Your father?" Jace asked, some of the tension draining from him as we moved past the topic of Valentine. "I've wanted to ask before, but I thought you might not want to talk about it."

"It's fine," I said. "He was in the Army, died in combat before I was born." I sighed. "I did the math after talking to Hodge my first night here. It couldn't have been more than four or five months after leaving Valentine that she got pregnant. And a few months after _that_ my father was dead."

Sometimes I wondered if he would have loved me. He would have been pretty young to be a father; he couldn't be more than his mid-twenties in the photos my mom kept on the mantel, and probably younger. I hoped he hadn't resented her for getting pregnant.

I knew my mother must have loved him, because she locked herself in her bedroom and cried every year on what must have been the anniversary of my father's death, sobbing brokenly over the small wooden box I had given to Alec. I had refrained from asking my mother many questions about him, knowing that this topic was still painful for her even after all these years.

I sometimes felt guilty that I couldn't summon that same amount of grief for this man whose blood I shared, who had given me life. My mother had told me he had been a good man, a kind man. I liked to believe he would have understood.

I swallowed hard, fighting back an unexpected rush of emotion. Maybe in this new life I had, where the past was so important, and so often painful, that thinking of the father I had never met wasn't so painless after all.

Jace pulled his hand from around my shoulders and held it out along his thigh. I glanced at it quizzically, and he huffed but slowly reached for my hand, interlacing our fingers with deliberate slowness so that I had plenty of time to pull away. I didn't.

I took a few deep breaths. We were just holding hands. We had already done this. I could do this again.

"When we get your mom back—" I wanted to hug him just for saying "when" "— you won't let her keep you away from us, will you?"

"No," I said immediately. I'd only been here a week, but the thought of losing Izzy, Alec, and even Max was painful. Losing Jace… my throat tightened again.

I felt a pang of fear as that Jace was asking because he wanted to know when I'd be leaving. Because he was ready for me to be out of their hair.

"I mean, for as long as you don't want me to," I finished uncertainly.

"So never, then," he said with an easy smile.

Izzy came back in then, carrying a huge bag from a Thai restaurant I had seen on our walk to the park to meet Luke. I hadn't even noticed her leaving. She gave me a knowing smile, her eyes darting to where my hand was still clasped in Jace's, and set the bag down on the coffee table in front of us.

Max came bounding down the front stairs as if he'd been magically summoned, and Isabelle smiled fondly as he started pulling out the takeout boxes. Alec appeared from the kitchen with plastic plates and forks.

"We're all here!" Max said, sounding thrilled as he plopped himself down at the end of the couch on Jace's right with a box of fried rice. He turned his bright smile on all of us as he opened it and took a big bite.

Jace reached over with the hand that wasn't holding mine to ruffle his hair, and then I could feel his eyes on me.

He squeezed my hand softly. "Yeah, we all are."

* * *

The next morning, after practicing with knives and shuriken with Isabelle, Jace, and Izzy, I was confronted with a terrible reality.

I would, Izzy informed me, be going shopping for new outfits in anticipation of the Clave's visit.

"You don't just have a dress I could wear?" I asked her desperately. We were walking back down the hallway toward our bedrooms, and I had hoped to spend the morning painting after I'd washed up after training.

"We're old-fashioned," Izzy said with a rueful smile. "Even though this isn't a formal event, there's still going to be _hors d_ _'_ _oeuvre_ and champagne and boring, _boring_ small talk. And the nightclub dresses I own tragically aren't going to cut it. Which means we'll both need new dresses."

Unfortunately, I could see the logic in what she was saying. Surely there was a chance I could get out of being present for the actual purchasing, though.

"Izzy, you know I don't care about clothes. Can't you just pick something for me?" I was already a walking, talking reincarnation of her wardrobe from two years ago. I might as well fully embrace my Barbie doll-like status.

"Of _course_ I'm going to pick something for you," she said, as if expecting anything else would be ridiculous. "But you have to be present for it so I can make sure it will look good on you."

"I don't see why it matters that much," I grumbled. "They already think I'm evil or hiding something. Who cares what I look like?"

Isabelle looked at me like I'd just said I was thinking of covering myself in mashed potatoes instead of a dress. "Because _Jace_ will be there. In a suit," she added, as if this were a vital detail.

I froze. Somehow I'd forgotten that the rest of the Institute's inhabitants would have to attend as well. I doubted either Jace or Alec were very happy about that.

I tried to imagine Jace in a suit. It didn't seem to go with his "warrior-casual" style, but there was not a doubt in my mind that he could pull it off, looking stunning as he did so. I could picture drawing him now, Jace in a black suit, crisp white shirt and silver tie, leaning against a wall, looking dangerous even while relaxed...

"You're blushing!" Isabelle said, sounding delighted. " _Now_ do you see why we need to go shopping?"

I sighed. "Fine. But you have to talk to the salespeople for me." That was the other reason I hated shopping. They were always hovering there, wanting to make eye contact, sometimes even trying to touch me.

Isabelle squealed. "Oh, Clary, you're going to look amazing."

An hour later found us at an upscale mall in Lower Manhattan, with me trying to keep pace with Izzy's longer legs as she powerwalked us from store to store like a woman on a life or death mission.

I still didn't want a lot of skin showing, out of fear that it would draw too much attention, especially at a party that existed partially because of me. I would be getting enough unwanted attention anyway.

After much debate, Izzy agreed that I could have a floor-length black gown in exchange for letting her pick one with what she called an illusion neckline, with a bodice that I considered relatively low cut was covered to a more modest neckline with black lacy fabric. I was also absolutely not allowed anything with sleeves. Izzy would not budge on that, which would leave my thin, pale arms exposed.

Finally Izzy found a gown that seemed to meet all these requirements, and. I reluctantly tried it on for Izzy, and she deemed it to be a good fit. I breathed a sigh of relief, naively thinking we would be done soon, just as soon as Izzy found her dress.

It took several long hours before Izzy finally decided on one particular black cocktail dress out of dozens of others she had tried, all of which looked almost exactly the same to me. The one she decided on looked like a more modest version of her many black club dresses: her stomach and sides were fully covered for once, and the hem ended only a few inches above her knees.

"It makes me look like a schoolmarm," she said, frowning at herself in the mirror. "But I guess it'll have to do."

I looked at her, wondering what she was seeing that I wasn't. What I saw was a strikingly pretty girl in a black dress that hugged her boobs and hips, was tight enough to show the inset of her waist and her flat stomach, and was still short enough to show long, muscled calves. I wondered what kind of schoolmarms she'd been seeing.

The mall hadn't been too crowded on a weekday in the middle of the day, and Izzy had moved in front of me like bodyguard every time a salesperson approached us while we were shopping. She had given them firm and not-especially-polite refusals of any help offered, as if the salespeople were intentionally trying to make me panic.

"I thought I was going to have to break that woman's arm," she had fumed after we left the store that we'd found my dress at.

The woman had actually tried to come into the dressing room with me to fuss with the neckline, and Isabelle had literally blocked her path and refused to move while I'd backed up as far against the opposite wall as I could.

"Izzy," I said softly when we were back on the subway, returning to the Institute, Isabelle sitting on my other side from where I was seated against the corner of the car. I turned to her and met her eyes for just a moment. "Thank you."

She was silent for a moment, and I glanced up at her long enough to see a smile spread across her face. "I've never had a girl friend," she said finally. "But I like you, Clary, I really do. It was fun shopping with you. I've never had anyone to do it with. Even if you were miserable most of the time," she said with a chuckle.

"I wasn't," I said, surprising myself.

And I really hadn't been. It had been nice spending time with Izzy, even if it had involved dozens of dresses.

Two women with identical long, pale blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes, clearly twins, came in at the next stop, and my fingers twitched. I reached in my purse for my small sketch pad, but to my surprise Izzy turned to her big designer tote bag and handed me a bigger sketch pad.

"This is better, isn't it?" she asked me.

I accepted the sketch pad. It wasn't the one I'd left in my bedroom, meaning at some point someone had bought another one.

"Thanks," I said in surprise. Sketching the girls side by side would be much easier on the larger pad.

"No problem," she said, sounding pleased.

We spent the rest of the ride in silence, me glancing up whenever my subjects were turned away or talking to each other and holding my sketch pad upright so the rest of the car couldn't see my drawing.

By the time we got off at our stop, my drawing was close enough to complete to call it done, and I followed Izzy out the door. We waited to be the very last people off, and then Izzy plowed through the few other people remaining in the car, leaving me to trail in the open space left in her wake.

"How was the Mall of America?" Jace asked us when we made it back to the Institute. He was lounging on the sofa, flipping through a heavy book with faded sketches of weapons on the cover.

I glanced up long enough to see Izzy give him a weird look. "What?"

"Well, I assumed you must have left the state, with how long it took you two."

I couldn't fight back a giggle, and I glanced up at Jace's expression just long enough to catch his smile at my reaction.

"You _men_ have to wear a suit," she said, sounding unamused. "In fact, you can wear the _same_ suit over and over, and no one will care. _We_ , as females, do not have that luxury. Anyway," she said casually, and I could tell her eyes were on me. "I think you'll be happy with… our shopping."

"Really," Jace said, sounding intrigued.

"Really." She hoisted our shopping bags. "I'm going to hang these up in my room before they get wrinkled. _And_ so you can't sneak a look before the party, Jace Wayland."

"How well you know me," Jace said sadly.

He rose and walked over to me as Izzy clattered up the stairs, and suddenly there was an expression of excitement I hadn't ever seen from him before. "Come on, Red, I want to show you something."

I followed him farther down the hallway than any of the rooms I was familiar with, and then he was pushing open the door to what probably should have been yet another bedroom, but there was almost no furniture in this room.

Instead the floor was covered with an enormous drop cloth, there were a few open vertical shelves on the wall, and in the middle was the nicest easel I had ever seen. It was adjustable and taller than I was, and it looked like solid oak.

On the walls hung some of my paintings and drawings from the same type of folder clips that my mother had used in our house. Some of them were pieces I had drawn since coming to the Institute, but others had come from my house. Jace must have gone there to get them.

I walked to the center of the room in a daze. I thought I knew why he'd picked this room; it was a corner room and had two tall windows instead of one, and the afternoon sun was shining in, giving everything a bright, cheery glow.

"Jace," I whispered. I turned and made eye contact with him for a couple seconds. He was examining my face, looking hesitant.

Jace had _listened_. He had made me an art studio as a surprise for me. I had never had anyone do anything like this for me, and that, combined with the fact that I felt more at home here with him and his siblings gave me a feeling of belonging that I had never felt before.

"Please tell me those are good tears," he said. I hadn't realized I was crying until then.

I spun in a slow circle again, and I could feel the smile breaking across my face. "The best kind," I told him.

Without stopping to second guess myself, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, just long enough to feel his hands graze my lower back, and then I was stepping back, already blushing.

"Thank you," I whispered to the floor, too emotional to meet his eyes again. I had never hugged anyone who wasn't Simon or my mom before.

He laughed softly. "If that's your reaction, Red, I'll get you anything you want."

I blushed, and he just laughed again.


	12. Chapter 12

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Your reviews for last chapter were, as always, lovely and much appreciated! Thank you for writing them, and enjoy this chapter.

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWELVE**

The next morning, I woke up with dread heavy in my stomach. In less than twelve hours, one of my worst fears was going to be coming true.

Not even bothering with breakfast or to say good morning to anyone at the Institute, I headed straight for my new art studio and let my painting absorb me as much as I could. Every time I lost my focus my hand start trembling, and it was hard to keep my strokes smooth as I painted canvas after canvas.

First it was my mother over, and then her and Luke, and then Izzy, Jace, and Alec all together, and then all over again. I was aware that I was being obsessive, which I usually tried to clamp down, but today I found the repetition soothing in a way I desperately needed.

The sunlight that streamed in the room had crossed it fully, and I knew it was sometime past noon. I heard a soft knock on the open door and jumped.

Pushing my hair back behind my shoulders for the millionth time, I saw Jace lounging against the door frame. "Hey, Red," he said softly. "Don't you think you're small enough already? Come eat — I saved some Thai for you and endured Izzy's cooking instead."

My stomach tightened in a queasy mix of hunger and nerves as I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. I was almost positive I had at least a couple of paint streaks on my face, and I watched Jace run his eyes across my face, looking almost amused. "I don't know if I can," I said, glancing down at my hands, which had started to shake again.

"That's okay, come downstairs anyway," he said, but it wasn't in his normal tone of expecting people to immediately do what he said. "At least to see Alec — he looks almost as grumpy as you do."

I sighed but set my palette and brush on the easel's tray. I'd have to come back and clean my brushes properly later, but Jace was right — me fainting from hunger wasn't going to do any good.

Jace smiled, like he was happy I was coming, and held out his hand to me. I felt a thrill just thinking of his touch. "I've got paint on my hands," I protested, holding them up so he could see the streaks of partly dried paint across my palms and the back of my fingers.

"An occupational hazard I'm happy to embrace," he said, and I finally gave in and reached for his hand. He released it almost immediately, and I took a step backward, hurt. But he just held his hand out to me again, blue and green streaks across his palms now, too.

"There, now we match," he said, chuckling. "Come on, Red."

I took his hand again, and this time he clasped it tightly in his.

I caught Izzy's smile as she looked up when I walked downstairs with Jace. Alec was sitting on the couch from her, looking just as unhappy as Jace had said he was.

"— don't see what's wrong with the one I have," he was saying to his sister.

"Alec, it was too tight _last_ year. You and Jace are going shopping, and that's final."

Alec opened his mouth again, but Izzy held up her hand. "You know I'm right. I'll go get Mom to back me up if you won't listen to me."

"They're just here for Clary," Alec said sourly, clearly trying a different tack. "Sorry, Clary," he added to me.

"It's fine," I said miserably, because he was right. The Institute was being — I didn't think that "invaded" was the right word, but something close — because of me.

"And we are _going_ to present a _united front_ ," Izzy said. "The Lightwoods run this Institute, and we're going to show them that Mom and Dad do it perfectly. This is the first time some of the Council will have seen them since… you know."

Since Maryse and Robert had been banished to New York, no longer allowed to live in Idris or even stay in the city for more than a couple of days.

I dropped my eyes as the silence between Izzy and Alec stretched. Even Jace didn't interrupt. He might be another son of the Lightwoods in all but name, but he didn't carry the same inherited burden that Izzy and Alec did.

"Fine, I'll get a new suit," Alec said resignedly. "But I won't be happy about it."

Izzy sighed. "No one asked you to be."

Jace rose from the couch, squeezing my hand briefly before letting go. I watched him walk away, into the kitchen, regretfully. I couldn't seem to stop my eyes from tracking him every time we were in the same room.

I wondered how obvious I was to everyone else. To him.

He came back out with a plate of pad thai and handed it to me. "Eat," he said firmly. "If you faint, I want it to be due to my beauty, not hunger."

I was too anxious to laugh, but a faint smile still crossed my face, and I picked up the fork.

Jace turned to Alec, who still looked unhappy. "I believe we have a shopping excursion to fulfill, brother," he said. "Hopefully we can manage it in fewer than the six hours Izzy required."

Alec looked horrified. "Six?" he repeated faintly.

Izzy and Jace both laughed. "One," Jace promised. "As long as you cooperate."

Judging by both Alec's expression and his utter lack of interest in his own clothing, I wasn't sure how likely that was.

Jace clapped him on the shoulder and turned him to face the hallway toward the elevator. "Yes, and we're going now, before you try to run off. You'll be almost as pretty as me by the time we're done." He paused, as if considering his words. "Well, maybe."

Alec grunted something uncomplimentary, but Jace just turned and smiled over at Izzy and me beatifically. "Goodbye, ladies," he said, but when I glanced up long enough to meet his golden eyes, his attention was only on me.

After he and Alec left I reluctantly started on the bowl, but I could barely taste the noodles. I clenched my hand more tightly around my fork, and I could already feel that irrepressible urge to draw or paint rise up in me again and tried to stop my fork from shaking in my fingers.

I could feel Izzy watching me as I ate mechanically, but she didn't say anything. When I finally pushed away my plate, unable to eat any more, Izzy took it from me without a word and took it to the kitchen. By the time I'd unfrozen my body long enough to stand, she was beside me again.

"Come on up to my room," she said. "I'm looking especially pretty today, so I want you to draw me again."

That startled a smile out of me, and I nodded and followed her up the stairs and grabbed my sketchpad and pencils from my room before continuing on to her room.

Izzy's bedroom was an explosion of pink and black and so many assorted clothing items that it took me a moment to see her bed and desk under all the fabric and shoes. Her vanity, though, was meticulously organized, with makeup and brushes and hair accessories neatly arranged in little drawers and containers across the surface, and the mirror was spotless.

She shoved the clothes piled on her bed to the floor and stretched out on it lazily. "Come on," she said with a smile, patting the other side of the bed. "I'm going to paint my nails, and you're going to draw me."

I nodded, my anxiety already making words hard to form, and pulled my sketchpad into my lap as I sat down cross-legged across from her. I watched Izzy lean over to pick a handful of nail polish bottles off of her nightstand and hold them up to the light, examining them carefully.

Then I was lost to myself, in the feel of my hand around my pencils, the scratch and drag against the thick pressed paper, the brushing sound the pages made as I finished each drawing and turned to the next sheet of my sketchpad. My fear was a distant thing in this moment, just an annoyance, as I drew Izzy painting her nails, then examining a giant box of jewelry before deciding on a necklace and a pair of earrings, and then kneeling to excavate a hair straightener, curling iron, hair dryer, and about half a dozen hairbrushes from one of the piles of clothes underneath her vanity table.

I heard Jace and Alec come back while I was working on a drawing of Izzy in the store at the mall, holding up the dress she'd eventually picked out. Jace was arguing with his _parabatai_ about something downstairs, but it didn't sound too serious. My hand stilled for the first time since sitting down, and I wondered if Jace would come upstairs to see us.

"Nope," Izzy said from her seat at her vanity, where she was now meticulously curling her hair.

I turned to her in surprise. "What?"

"You're not seeing him again until you're all dressed up."

"I wasn't…" I stammered, but I glanced up at Izzy's reflection in the mirror long enough to see her knowing smirk that so resembled her adoptive brother's.

Blushing, I ducked my head and returned to my drawing.

An hour later, Izzy turned to me, her hair in effortless waves, her makeup flawless. "Okay, it's time!" She stepped into her closet and pulled out my dress. It looked more revealing than I'd remembered.

I took a deep breath before setting down my sketch pad and pencils and took it from her. I trudged into the bathroom, staring at my unhappy reflection in the mirror as I slowly tugged on the dress. It was tight. I hadn't remembered that from the store, but then I'd probably been too tired by that point to do much besides accept Izzy's choice.

There was a smudge of blue on my cheekbone, and I scrubbed it off before staring down at my arms, their white silver scars barely visible against my pale skin. Jace, Izzy, and Alec managed to make their rune scars look like they'd earned them, like they deserved to have them after years of combat and training.

I was acutely aware that I'd never done anything but practice in the training room, that I hadn't grown up learning how to fight, that ten-year-old Shadowhunter children were probably more dangerous than I was.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and I jumped. "Clary, did you fall in?" Izzy called out.

"Coming," I said, twisting around to zip up the back and opening the door.

"Excellent, now come sit your perky ass down in this chair," she said imperiously, pointing toward her vanity bench. There were different colors of eye shadow and blush set out now — tiny eyeshadow compacts in variations on yellow ochre, something between burnt and raw sienna, and pale venetian red, though I was sure those weren't the commercial names of them. Autumn colors. I'd never thought of my face as a canvas before, but I had a feeling that it was about to become one.

"Izzy…" I protested weakly. "You got me into this dress. Don't you think you've done enough?"

"Nope," she said, popping the _p_. "Now get over here, or I'll carry you over myself."

Sometimes it was really no fun being small.

I endured my makeover, scowling at my reflection in the mirror until Izzy made me close my eyes to put on eye liner and mascara (a deep earth red/burnt umber mix, both of them), followed by burnt sienna on my eyelids and a red-heavy brown pink on my lips. Finally I was allowed to look at myself again, and I was relieved to see that I still looked like myself, just… more.

I didn't see a pretty girl, exactly, but with the makeup bringing color to my pale features and the bold black lines of my dress, I had a… presence that I had never had before. On a night like tonight, when I wished I could disappear but knew that I wouldn't be able to, I thought maybe I looked a little braver. Maybe some of that would bleed through into my thoughts.

But probably not.

I glanced up when Izzy slid her fingers through my hair consideringly, careful not to touch my skin. "We need something formal. What do you think? French twist? Chignon?"

"There's no point in putting it up, Izzy," I said absently, visualizing drawing all the Shadowhunters that were probably already milling about in the ballroom. Maybe if I thought of them as just subjects for my art they would seem less intimidating. "Jace will just pull it back down."

In the mirror I could see Isabelle looking like she was going to say something. Then she closed her mouth and opened it again, clearly changing what she was going to say.

"Then I'll waterfall braid the top of it, and if he tries to pull that out I'll slap him." I smiled at the mental image and almost wished she would.

I was amazed at how nimbly she could braid, managing my unruly curls like they were nothing. She had just tied off the strands at the back of my head with a tiny clear band when my phone vibrated, and I saw Simon's name flash up from the pile of my clothes Izzy had discarded on the bed. I'd forgotten to call him earlier.

Izzy stepped back so that I could stand up and disappeared into her closet, mumbling something about shoes.

"Simon," I said when I picked up the phone. "Are you coming to save me?" I was only kind of joking.

I heard him chuckle. "What have you gotten yourself into now, Fray?"

"A _dress_!"

Simon made a concerned sound. "That does sound dire. What's the occasion?"

"There's a big formal event I have to go tonight. It's… important." I didn't want to try to sanitize the reason for the party in a way that Jace and the others would approve of, so I didn't give any further details. "And people are going to _talk_ to me," I added, my throat tightening. I knew that tonight was more important than me and my weird hangups, but that was all I could focus on right now.

"And there's no way out of it?" He sounded serious this time.

"No," I whispered, fiddling with the makeup brushes on Izzy's table. I tried to sound nonchalant. "I'm keep trying to tell myself it'll be okay. Jace said he and Izzy and Alec would watch out for me." I couldn't explain to Simon that I was basically going to be interrogated.

Simon made a _hmm_ -ing noise. "They seem like good people. You know I'll never really think anyone deserves you—" I smiled "— But I think they might be pretty close. And I think they'd probably do it even without the way Jace feels."

My brow furrowed, though of course Simon couldn't see it. "What do you mean, the way Jace feels? About what?"

Simon chuckled and imitated a high-pitched voice. "'What do you think Clary would like?' 'How do I get Clary to trust me?' 'Do you think Clary will ever let me touch her?'"

"He said those things?" I said, shocked. I couldn't imagine him ever being insecure about anything, least of all me.

"Come on, Fray." He sounded exasperated, as if I was being deliberately obtuse. "I know you're not really a girly girl, but you _have_ to know what –"

I heard something falling to the floor, and then Isabelle was stepping out of her giant closet, her feet now encased in glossy six-inch black pumps and another pair, not much shorter, in her hand.

"Ready? Ooh, is that Simon?" She held out her hand expectantly.

"Um, yeah," I said as I handed my phone over.

"Simon, hi!" she said cheerfully into the phone. "Clary says bye, and I also wanted to see when you were planning on asking me out."

I stared at her in amazement, and there was a brief pause before a smile broke out on Izzy's face.

"That's what I thought. Text me the address. _Ciao_!"

She ended the call and handed my phone back to me triumphantly. "I am efficient, what can I say?" She set the heels she was carrying at my feet. "These are my heels from a couple years ago; lucky you for being just the right size." Groaning, I bent down and pulled the shoes on.

When I rose off the seat four inches farther from the floor than I'd started, I almost immediately stumbled and had to catch the wall to remain upright. It didn't help that my dress was too tight around my thighs to be much help maintaining my balance. I felt like a newly born colt.

I could hear Izzy giggle from behind me, and if I hadn't been so busy trying to stay vertical, I would have turned to glare at her.

If this stupid party didn't kill me, my outfit might.

* * *

Izzy sent me on ahead, deciding at the last minute that her hair looked too flat and needed more curls, and I took the chance to make my escape before she thought of something else I needed to attach to my body. After taking a deep breath to enjoy the hair product-free air when I stepped into the hallway, I began walking toward the ballroom stiffly, trying very hard not to slip in my shiny heels.

There was a padded bench outside the entrance to the ballroom, and I sat down heavily on it as soon as I reached it, as if I had walked miles instead of just down a few hallways.

I could hear voices on the other side of the wall, laughter and glassware clinking and people talking, and generally sounding relaxed. Happy. They'd probably been looking forward to this, like this was actually a party. Feeling comfortable talking to people in big groups was something I literally couldn't imagine.

Just like that, my heart rate was speeding up, and I shut my eyes, wrapping my arms around my waist and rocking back and forth a little.

"Hey, Red."

I hadn't noticed Jace walk up, but now he was staring down at me calmly, as if I wasn't having an anxiety attack right in front of him. His crisp black suit fit his lean frame perfectly, the blue-gray of his tie complementing the gold of his eyes and hair. He looked stunning.

He held out his hand, and I numbly took it. I didn't care how I felt right now; I wanted to touch him.

He tugged me to my feet and then stepped back to look at me, releasing my hand. The look he gave me made me blush to the roots of my hair. He had never tried to hide that flick of his eyes up and down my body that he did every time he saw me, but this time his gaze lingered.

Then a grin broke out over his face.

"Looking good, Red," he said. He reached out a hand gently to touch the thin braid that wrapped the crown of my head. I shuddered at the fingertip-light pressure against my scalp, though he wasn't even touching my skin. "I like your hair," he said in a low voice.

His hand fell to the loose locks falling past my shoulders, and he gently tugged on a strand, wrapping the curls around his finger slowly, like we had all the time in the world. I inhaled in surprise, and I was sure he noticed, if the amused smile he gave me when I dared to glance up at him wasn't something I was making up.

"You don't even know, do you?" he asked me softly, but it almost sounded like he was talking to himself, too. "What you —"

"Hit on Clary on your own time, Jace," Izzy said from behind me, striding toward us in her sleeveless black sheath dress and six-inch stilettos. "We have a party we need to look stunning for."

I blushed and dropped my eyes to the floor, and Jace stepped back from me smoothly, as if he'd never been close enough that his dress shoes on the floor had touched mine.

"One day you'll give me an actual challenge, Izzy," he said mournfully.

His sister ignored him, opening the ballroom door and peeking inside. "Mom's already there. I know she's going to make sure I'm introduced to everyone." She looked back at us and rolled her eyes. "I'll see you two soon. No canoodling!"

While I blinked at the unfamiliar word, Izzy visibly squared her shoulders and stepped into the ballroom, not bothering to stop the heavy door as it slammed shut behind her.

Jace offered me his arm, and then suddenly what I was about to do was real.

There were dozens of people in there. They were going to be looking at me. Fuck, they were here for me. I staggered backward from Jace until I was pressed against the cool stone wall. Barely aware of what I was doing, I slid down against the wall until my butt hit the floor, and buried my face in my hands.

This was why I didn't show my artwork. Why I never wanted to be more than a 100-level teaching assistant at Parsons who could help students with their technique without talking to them or even looking at them. Why I absolutely, positively, could not walk into that ballroom.

I slowly became aware of Jace speaking. I opened my eyes to see his worried expression. He was kneeling down in front of me on the floor. He was going to get wrinkles in his perfectly pressed suit before he even made it through the doors.

"Clary," he said softly. He held out his hands, and numbly I took them — not because I wanted to get up, but because I selfishly couldn't bring myself to turn down the chance to touch him if he was offering it.

But he didn't try to get me to stand up. He just held my hands softly in his, his thumbs making small circles around my wrists. I wasn't sure if he was attempting to be soothing of if this was part of a deliberate effort to distract me, but either way it was both invigorating and relaxing in a way that helped me shift my attention away from my terror a little.

"I can't do this, Jace," I whimpered once I could speak through my ragged breaths.

He squeezed my hands. "Remember that ridiculous party at Magnus's? There were twice as many people there packed into less space. No one's going to touch you here. I won't let them. And you made it through that, remember? You walked through that huge crowd so that we could talk to Magnus."

I wasn't likely to forget that anytime soon. "But that was to find my mom."

Jace was still drawing circles on my wrist. "I think they're all connected. Valentine wants your mom to help him find the Mortal Cup, or maybe to get her to use it with him."

"She would never!" I said, momentarily distracted from my panic.

"I know, but that might be the link. He wants her to. Maybe she even knows where it is already. So if you can help the Clave tonight, they might — unintentionally, granted — be able to help you find your mom."

He didn't say anything else, letting me process this. I focused on the thought, the memories of my mother. This was for her. She'd done so much for me, her weird, withdrawn daughter, for the past sixteen years.

It was time to repay her kindness and love with this pathetically simple task.

"Stay with me?" I asked Jace, and his hands tightened in mine as he helped pull me to my feet. I tottered for a minute before I regained my balance.

He didn't hesitate. "Always."


	13. Chapter 13

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you for your lovely reviews! Hope you enjoy this one. :).

* * *

 **CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

I started shivering uncontrollably as Jace and I walked into the room. It was an unavoidable reaction I always had on the thankfully rare occasions I was forced into situations like this.

I was only holding on to Jace's arm with my fingers, and he had his suit and shirt on, but I was trembling so hard he could probably feel it.

"We're going to the far corner," he said so only I could hear. "To that couch. I left a sketchpad there for you."

I nodded. My lips were trembling too much to talk.

And then, impossibly, things got worse.

The Shadowhunters scattered around the room, talking in small groups, began turning to _look_ at me. My feet wanted to stop moving, but Jace gently pulled me along. "Close your eyes, Red," he said, bending down to whisper in my ear. "It's just you and me, walking in the dark."

I tried to listen to what he was saying, but more than that I tried not to throw up. _They_ _'re looking they're looking they're looking_.

A man was approaching me, a champagne flute in his hand, and I wanted to die right there. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks, staring over my head at Jace. An expression of something that was not quite fear but was certainly wariness flashed over the man's face, and he seemed to find a sudden interest in the table of _hors d'oeuvre_ on the other end of the room.

Jace made a sound of disgust. "Eyes closed, Red," he murmured to me once the man had turned away from us.

My fingers tightened around his arm, and finally I closed my eyes. I immediately felt better. Jace was right, I could almost believe that it really was just me and him, and for some reason we were walking in the dark.

I tried to suppress my awareness of the sounds of people shifting and murmuring around me, but I knew it was more quiet than it should be in a room with dozens of people. It was probably because they were all — _no_ _don_ _'t think about it don't think about it_.

"They're watching me, aren't they?" I whispered to Jace as we walked, fighting back tears. "They think I'm a freak."

"Some of them are watching," he admitted, and even though that was something I didn't want to hear, I was still grateful for his honesty. "But they don't think you're a freak, Clary."

I shook my head but didn't argue with him. I didn't think he was lying; I just thought he was wrong.

After another minute of our slow pace, Jace stopped and slipped his arm from mine, gently wrapping my bare upper arms with his unnaturally warm fingers and pushing me down until I was sitting on something soft. Keeping one of his hands on my arm, he sat down beside me, sliding that hand over my back and shifting so that I was pressed up against him, his arm tightening around my shoulder.

"See?" he said softly in my ear. "We made it."

My breath and heart rate were still pounding too much to talk, but I wearily leaned my head back against the back cushion and Jace's arm as if I'd been sprinting across the room.

He didn't say anything for a minute, and I knew I was supposed to be focusing on calming down so that I could manage to _open my eyes_ like a somewhat normal person, but right now I was just super aware of his heat, his body, against mine, which was distracting for a whole different reason.

There was something about the casual way he'd touched me that made something tighten in my chest, something that wasn't fear but felt almost like it. It was as if he hadn't expected me to panic at him touching me, and so I hadn't.

"There are so many people to draw here, Red," Jace said a moment later. "There's a man wearing what's got to be the world's worst toupee. A woman who keeps glancing at another woman when she thinks her husband isn't paying attention. A tall brunette with impractical shoes and a whip around her wrist," he added, sounding amused. "Oh, wait, that's my sweet sister."

I opened my eyes to see Isabelle walking toward us, a sway in her step that I genuinely didn't think was deliberate. More than one man not so subtly watched her as she passed them.

"Oh, so you'll open your eyes for Izzy but not for me?"

I bit my lip, but Jace was grinning when I glanced over at him.

"Your first visitors are on their way," Izzy said, stopping in front of us. "They just finished talking to Mom. John Fellowherd and Matthew Grandshield."

"And what a treat they'll be," Jace said dryly. "Here, Red," he said, leaning over to grab something behind the far cushion. He handed me one of my eleven-inch sketch pads and, to my surprise, a case of charcoals. "Simon said you would like these, too," he said. He almost sounded embarrassed.

Him sounding embarrassed made me embarrassed, too, and I fumbled for the case and almost dropped it. "Thank you," I whispered, wondering when he had asked Simon that.

The hand he still had draped around my shoulder squeezed my upper arm. "You're welcome," he whispered, and then the first of my torturers was upon us.

* * *

They came at me two at a time, and I didn't get any better at talking to them. Jace's arm didn't leave my shoulders, and I forced my attention to my charcoals, sketching Taki's as I had seen it last, from my seat next to Jace in the booth, Kaelie walking away after taking our order, Simon watching Izzy from the corner of his eye, Alec lost in his own thoughts.

I knew the Clave members were disturbed by my behavior, by the way I didn't look up at them as I fumbled through my answers while my eyes didn't stray from my sketch pad in my lap.

Sometimes even drawing wasn't enough of a distraction from where I was, what I was having to do, and I had to set down my charcoals and close my eyes. Jace's arms tightened around me at those times and he whispered in my ear, "Take your time, Red."

My words felt worn from being used and folded and restated so many times to so many people. No, I had no idea where my mother was, other than what Magnus had said — somewhere in New York. No, I had no idea why she'd abandoned her life as a Shadowhunter. No, I'd never heard of Valentine Morgenstern until two weeks ago. No, I knew nothing about my father, Jonathan Clark.

The man they'd sent in last was the most awful of all, a scrawny man in his fifties with uncombed gray hair and an outraged expression. He finally stormed away, clearly frustrated and refusing to believe that anything I said was true.

I was stiff from sitting still so long, and Jace and I rose. He took a few steps away to say something to Izzy, who was had walked back over to us at some point and was now leaning against the wall, looking sulky. I was pretty sure she was hiding from her mother. I immediately felt too cold in my sleeveless dress without Jace's arm around me.

The man circled back to me once he saw that I was alone, and began stomping toward me. "How could you possibly expect us to believe you knew nothing about Valentine?" His face began turning red with indignation. "We'll put you to the Sword, you little—"

I took a step backward, automatically looking for Jace. Suddenly he was there, hurrying toward me, already glaring at the other man. "Don't ever talk to her like that again," he said in a low, dangerous voice I had never heard him use before.

I couldn't see Jace's expression, but something in it had the man taking an involuntary step backward. He muttered something to himself and spun on his heel to leave.

Jace held his hand out to me, and when I stepped forward he wrapped his arm around my shoulders again. "I've got you, Red," he whispered in my ear. "Do you want to get some wine?"

I shivered. "Will it help?" I closed my eyes to block out the brightness and noise of the ballroom and just focused on the feel of him pressed against my side.

"Have you never had alcohol?"

I shook my head, feeling the side of my head brush against his shoulder. "I never thought about trying it."

"It'll help you relax," he said, stepping back and reaching for my hand instead. He was getting so that where if we were already touching, he didn't warn me before he changed where he was touching me. He was pushing my boundaries and had been from the beginning. It could have been a bad thing, but he was slowly making me feel more normal, making me hope that one day I might be able to touch him the way other people touched their... I didn't know. Hopeless crushes?

Maybe if I was prettier he'd be willing to put aside all my neuroses, but I should just be happy he was willing to spend as much time with me as he did.

He led me slowly through the room, taking the widest route so that we weren't forced to brush up against anyone by accident.

There were a few open wine bottles set up on a long buffet table in the corner, with some clean wine glasses set out beside them on a long piece of white cloth. Jace moved behind me again so that my back brushed up against him and reached around me to pour two glasses of white wine.

He picked up one and pressed it into my hands before picking up the other. "Welcome to the wide world of wine snobbery." He swirled the glass a little. "This is a chardonnay. Classic white wine, highly aromatic. I've had this one before. Acidic, notes of green apple and pear."

"Is there any topic you don't know?" I muttered.

"Birdwatching," Jace said promptly. "I don't like birds. Ducks, especially."

I hid my smile by sniffing the glass. I'd been around wine before, but I'd never stuck my nose in a glass of it. It was sharp and kind of sweet smelling.

"You might not like it at first," he warned me. "It'll grow on you."

I took a sip that I realized immediately was too deep, and I sputtered, wiping the back of my mouth. I could feel Jace's chest vibrate with laughter even as he reached over for a napkin on the counter and handed it to me. I wiped my lips, embarrassed, but I wasn't blushing for once. I'd done too many other humiliating things in front of Jace for this to faze me.

"I think I like it," I said hesitantly. I took another, smaller sip. It was strange, unlike anything I'd ever drunk before, but there was something appealing about it. "I do like it," I said more firmly as I swallowed.

"Yeah?" I could hear the smile in Jace's voice. "Then drink, and we'll see if you feel a little more relaxed in this pretentious crowd."

I smiled back, and for the first time I felt my muscles loosen just the tiniest bit. I still desperately wanted to be anywhere else, and I didn't think I could have managed this if it had been anyone else with me.

But something about Jace made me believe that I could do so many things, even if they terrified me.

One glass of wine later, I felt a little softer, a little freer, and my heartbeat didn't slam in my chest as I glanced around at the dozens of Shadowhunters around me.

Jace bent down to whisper in my ear, and I shivered, like I always did when he did that, but I smiled, too. "Have you seen the greenhouse?" he whispered. "It's up on the roof."

I shook my head. I'd heard Hodge mention it, but I'd never sought it out.

"I think you'll like it. Let's make our escape. Very sneakily."

He tucked my hand into his arm, and even through the warmth in my chest due to the wine, I still felt a little thrill at the contact. I was able to keep my eyes on my the floor in front of me instead of closing my eyes this time.

To my eternal relief, no one approached us, though it was possible that Jace was perfecting his glare on the few Shadowhunters mingling near us as we walked across the room.

He led me to the end of the hallway and up a long, narrow flight of stairs I had never noticed before. When we reached the top, I stepped out on the roof to find a large greenhouse on the other side of the roof, lit from the inside with a soft white glow.

Rich green foliage pressed up against every glass wall, and brightly-colored tropical flowers, most of which I had no name for, grew wild amongst the riot of verdant green.

I stared, barely able to blink as I took it in.

"I clearly didn't think this through," Jace said with a laugh. "I'm going to be competing for your attention against plants." He reached for my hand casually, and I let him take it with barely a second's hesitation, my fingers feeling delightfully warm clasped in his in the spring air that hadn't yet fully lost winter's chill.

He held the door open for me, and as I stepped into a scene of warmth and humidity, it truly felt as if we were stepping into another world. The flowers I had seen from outside clearly weren't mundane flowers. Some glowed, and one gave off lavender sparks, and others almost seemed to vibrate with irrepressible life, feeding from the angelic energy that existed everywhere in this new world I lived in.

I had never felt the urge to paint flowers before. Inanimate subjects held little interest to me, but these weren't exactly inanimate. They radiated light and life and something that was near awareness.

"Jace, this is beautiful," I whispered. I twirled in a slow circle, inhaling the sweet, hot air and already planning on how to fit my easel within the narrow walkway.

"I'm glad you like it," he said softly. I didn't know why we were whispering, but something about being in this lovely place, and being alone with Jace, felt shockingly intimate.

I drew my gaze back to his, meeting his eyes for a brief second before I had to look away. There was something beautiful and unguarded in his golden eyes, and he was watching me, not the flowers and trees surrounding us.

"I've never brought anyone up here," he said softly. "But I want to share everything with you, Clary."

I frowned, turning back to him as my awareness of the beautiful space we were in faded away a little as I focused on him. "Why?" I asked quietly. "I'm not…" I fumbled for words. The alcohol seemed to be freeing my tongue, but it wasn't helping my eloquence. "I'm not… anything. You should be sharing this with someone…" _Someone who deserves you_ , I wanted to say. "Else. Someone you like. Not just to be nice."

Jace didn't respond immediately, and I chanced a glance at his expression. He looked like he didn't know whether to be amused or angry.

"Are you serious? Do you think I go around touching girls, hugging them and holding hands with them, just to be _nice_? I love Izzy — have you ever seen me doing that with _her_?"

"You feel bad for me," I whispered. "Because of what a freak I am." I wasn't being self-pitying. I knew exactly what I was like.

"One," he said heatedly. "You're not a freak. Two, no, I don't feel bad for you. I just want to help you. I _like_ you, Clary. I thought maybe you liked me back."

I wanted to disappear into the floor. "I do," I said. That was easy to admit because it wasn't a secret. He could read me better than I could read myself. "You know that."

"Do I?" he asked, and there was a hint of vulnerability I'd never heard before in his voice.

I raised my eyes to his, and almost immediately looked away at the expression I saw in them. He looked... scared. Then his eyes met mine, and I stood frozen, lost in them. He was so beautiful, standing in this hidden garden and staring at me as if I held the key to some secret he'd been searching for.

"Jace..." I said, and realized something didn't feel right between us. We weren't touching. Somehow, at some point, I had begun to associate Jace's presence with touch. If we were together, he'd be touching me somewhere.

I frowned and glanced down at my fingers. I wanted to feel them on his skin.

I took a tiny step forward and glanced up at him again to see if he would move away. He didn't.

Feeling more frightened than I ever had in my life, I reached out and pressed my hand against his hard stomach, sliding under his t-shirt to meet bare skin. Warmth flared between my skin and his, just as it always did.

This was much better. Touching Jace felt right.

I could feel his muscles contract under my hand and heard him inhale sharply, but he otherwise didn't move.

"You _should_ know that," I said softly.

"Clary," he breathed. His hands came down softly, as delicate as a daydream, into my hair, sliding down the strands until he was touching my back and then his hands came down to rest around my waist. I shuddered at the contact and could feel my body automatically swaying into his.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he said, and I could almost feel my heart fall out of my feet. "Don't panic, okay?"

I could make no promises, but I just stood there dumbly as he took my chin and gently tilted it up so that our eyes met again.

I looked up at him without meaning to, and met the fierce intensity of his beautiful gold eyes. I turned bright red, and I could feel him smiling as he pressed his lips to mine.

It was like nothing I'd ever experienced.

His lips were soft, sweet against mine. He tasted like tart wine and something else, the sweet, sunlit warmth that he always smelled like. He tilted his head a little more against me, and then my lips were parting under his, and I couldn't stop a little gasp. Like the heat from his body was seeping into mine, I could feel rushing heat from where our lips touched sparking down my veins.

My hand, which had still been pressed against his stomach, slid to his hips. It suddenly seemed absurd to me that if we were touching in one of the most intimate ways two people could touch, that I would be hesitant to touch his hips through his jeans.

Without my hand between us, he moved closer against me and I had to stand on my tiptoes to keep our mouths connected. I opened my mouth under his, not knowing what I was searching for until I felt his tongue sweeping gently across mine. My knees almost buckled. I wanted to do this forever.

Then he bit my lower lip, gently, but hard enough to make me make a soft noise in my throat, and I felt heat building in my belly. I shivered as his hands slid under the hem of my shirt until he was touching the small of my back with his bare hands.

After a beautiful lifetime, he pulled away. Though I was gasping for air and lightheaded, I still made a protesting noise, my hands tightening on his hips.

"I don't want to make it to second base with you out here on the roof," he said, chuckling softly. He was out of breath, too, his lips slightly swollen. I was still too much in a daze from the fact that I had _made out_ with Jace to flinch away from eye contact right now. His eyes were bright, his pupils dilated. He looked more beautiful than I had ever seen him.

"You okay, Red? Are you going to faint on me?"

"I... don't think so." I pulled one hand away from his hip and glanced down at my fingers. They were shaking. "I can't believe you kissed me."

He laughed and bent down to press a kiss to my forehead. Even that sent a bolt of heat rushing down my body. "I can tell. Come on, we need to get back to the delightful, unwanted get together downstairs now, or Maryse is perfectly capable of coming up here to drag us down herself. "

He held out his hand to me, and I slid my fingers between his effortlessly, as if we'd been holding hands for years.

And despite everything that had gone wrong in my life, despite the nightmarish party that was waiting downstairs for me — for this moment in time everything was perfect.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Guys. GUYS. I was so excited to finally be able to post this chapter. Clary and Jace's first kiss was a scene I've had written for literally months.

I don't usually let the movie or TV show interfere with my visualization of characters/scenes, but I LOVE the greenhouse scene in the City of Bones movie and am picturing the greenhouse pretty much like it is in the movie. Everyone should go watch that scene on YouTube if you haven't seen it. It is life.

Let me know what you thought!


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